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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by dixielandyankee on Oct 30, 2004, 9:37am

"Oh sure, come to think of it I'm pretty hungry myself", Dixie's stomach growled in affirmation and she placed a hand on her belly, blushing slightly. "Sorry about that, I haven't eaten [sign in to see URL], since before I got here anyway, I'm not even sure how long ago that was!"

Dixie studied the woman opposite her for a moment, musing in silence...' I wonder what the glove thing is all [sign in to see URL] Indiana Jones...' she felt a chuckle build inside her but thought it inappropriate to let it out, so she swallowed it and addressed Scrappy again.

"Can you stand?" she asked, reaching out a hand, "you look a little pale." The answer came in the form of soft leather sliding into her grasp as Scrappy pulled herself out of her chair and stood facing her. She was a little taller than Dixie, but not as intimidating as she seemed at first.

"Well, ok then I guess that answers my question" smiled Dixie "what do you think our chances are of finding the others and having a discussion without interruption from things that go bump in the night?" she joked. "I feel like we might all have some explaining to [sign in to see URL]'m guessing no one knew I was a witch, you're a psychic or something aren't you? And don't even get me started on the Guru dude, there's something amiss [sign in to see URL] this Phalon chick, who invited her? And why? What's the..."

Before Dixie had time to continue the library door opened with a bang and a rush of cold air, all the lights in the room blinked out unexpectedly and one of the bookshelves spun round to reveal a substantial room behind. These goings-on heralded the entry of a woman from the hall beyond who walked slowly towards the opening which had been revealed and stepped through into the room beyond. It was dusty and neglected but appeared to be exactly as the previous occupant had left it, whoever the previous occupant might have been. The walls were bedecked in pictures and photographs, of various people but predominantly featuring a man and woman in 1920's style clothing. The woman appeared to be the same person who had just walked in on Dixie and Scrappy with the obvious exception of the fact that this woman had clearly neither just teleported from 1920, nor survived from then! She stood at a small table in the middle of the secret room and picked up one of the photos of the couple, turning it over to read the back, then she placed it back where she had found it and turned to re-enter the library. Doing so she came face to face with Dixie and Scrappy. Dixie cocked an eyebrow and sniffed, then she inclined her head slightly to the left and looked pointedly at Scrappy. Scrappy was looking at the [sign in to see URL] at [sign in to see URL] turned to face Dixie and said in a calm, low voice "You can see her, right?"

"Uh huh" said Dixie.
"[sign in to see URL] have no idea how glad I am." supplied Scrappy.
Dixie turned once again to the woman and said "[sign in to see URL] tell me you're a [sign in to see URL] a name [sign in to see URL] not one of our, erm, unexpected visitors?"

"Freebird" answered the woman, "yes I was invited, I came to get my name [sign in to see URL] a small cottage on the other side of the house, where I found a picture of me that wasn't actually [sign in to see URL] don't know if I can explain, I just have a theory about it all..."

From somewhere above their heads came a sound that halted the conversation and quite frankly chilled Dixie to the marrow. It was the unmistakeable sound of a man, screaming like a girl.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by freebird on Oct 30, 2004, 6:57pm

Freebird said to the others did you hear that scream?
Wonder what it was,it sounds like a someone is in trouble.
I think we better go find out who it is and where it came from.
Suddenly she felt a cold wind behind her as the book shelf closed.
The room got very bright once again. Freebird walked across the room towards the others. Suddenly they heard a growling noise,
coming from Dixie's direction "sorry" Dixie said that was my stomach. I haven't eaten yet, they all laughed and freebird said come to think of it I haven't eaten either.
How about we go in search of the kitchen to see if there's anything we can stir up for dinner? But what about that scream ,
should we see about that first?
Also I think we need to talk about what's going on in this place.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Oct 31, 2004, 4:56pm

She felt like she’d been run over. Several times. But then experiences like this weren’t meant to be easy. She heard Dixie ask if she could stand. Scrappy looked up into blue eyed angelic face and smiled a big warm smile. She reached out and placed her gloved hand into the offered one and stood on shaky legs.

She was about to give Dixie a brief summarization of her recent experiences when she felt a rush of air blow across the back of her t-shirt. Dixie must have felt the same thing because they both turned around together, still hand in hand, to see what had happened.

“It was probably just an open window.” Scrappy told herself. When she turned around and once again faced the books a large section of shelving had mysteriously opened from the wall revealing large nook behind. In the middle of the spacious room was a table covered with pictures and mementos of someone’s life. Scrappy was about to investigate when someone new entered the room.

She watched as this unidentified person wandered over to the open bookcase and began rifling through the pictures. After her more recent experiences Scrappy wasn’t sure if this was really happening or not. Better check just in case. Deep breath calm voice, “You can see her, right?”

She waited for Dixie to nod her agreement. “Uh huh.” Scrappy shook off another cold sweat and said, "[sign in to see URL] have no idea how glad I am." She listened quietly as Dixie and Freebird chatted. Scrappy jumped when they heard a blood curdling girlie scream come from a room somewhere up stairs. “Uh, I think I should go see what kind of trouble Guru has gotten himself into.” She untangled her fingers from Dixie’s then made her way to the Library door, but turned back as an after thought hit her. “Anyone else coming?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she made for the stairs.

She took the steps two at a time wondering what she was going to find. When she hit the top landing she was stumped. “!@#$! Which direction?” She stood rooted to the spot in a moment of indecision. ”Just pick a direction and move!” Her inner voice told her. Pushed into action she ran down the hallway throwing open doors as she went. She finally came to one that was locked. ”Ok, get a grip Scrappy. He may just have stubbed his toe on his way out of the bathroom. Wouldn’t do to go busting in on him if he’s naked or something.”

Taking a deep breath to slow her heart rate she calmed down a little before removing the glove on her left hand. ”Here I go again.” She tentatively put her fingers on the doorknob. A light touch is all it would take.............

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 1, 2004, 2:55am

"I shall rid the world of all you demon spawn! Hand of God Almighty, guide my blade!"

That was the last thing Guru needed to hear in his condition ... which at the time consisted of being shot at, clubbed over the head with a shovel and chased into the woods under the last fading rays of twilight. He certainly didn't appreciate some self-appointed savior of mankind trying to justify cutting the head off another human being. Especially his head.

"Listen to me! I don't know what you want, but I'm not it. Mister Lowell hired me to clear trees off this hill. That's all I'm doing here. This is my first time in Flagstaff and believe you me it will be my last!"

Stall for time. Get him to talk. Can you reason with a madman? Guru had nothing to lose by trying. And after cutting trees all day he was too tired to run far or put up his best fight. It would take a miracle to get out of this one.

Somehow this man knew Guru's secret and wanted to kill him for it. But what perversion of logic would drive someone to fashion a crude sword out of scrap metal and go hunting people?

This hunt led to a tree at Guru's back and a sword at his chest. In the gathering gloom of the Arizona night, the wide open West felt narrow as an alley and twice as dark. But when he started randomly jamming his hands in his pockets -- a nervous habit -- he found something that gave him a bright ray of hope. A simple gift from an old friend would suddenly become that miracle.

That was 1894.

Many years later he found himself in an old mansion staring down the business end of another sword and thinking, 'Sure could use another miracle now!'

Right on cue running footsteps echoed down the hall. Someone was coming!

Then they stopped. Someone was going to another room! It looked like miracles were in short supply.



---

Whoosh-ChelSierra-Muse - Twi-Saga
11/10/2011, 3:38 am Link to this post Send Email to Joxcenia   Send PM to Joxcenia Blog
 
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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by dixielandyankee on Nov 1, 2004, 12:54pm

Dixie found herself suddenly, and rather regrettably, empty handed as Scrappy dashed from the room in hot pursuit of the scream that came from upstairs. She looked at Freebird, reached over and grabbed the woman by the arm. "Come on, we won't get far standing here" she reasoned as she towed her out into the hallway. They could see Scrappy's rapidly retreating back as she took the stairs two at a time.

"Oh crap, wait a second." breathed Dixie as she crossed to her travel bag which lay where she had unceremoniously left it on her entrance to the house. She unzipped a side pocket with trembling fingers and withdrew a slim leather case. Opening it with a creak she withdrew a highly polished length of willow, embedded in a silver hilt. "C'mon wand, I could use your help." Turning to stand she lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal a slim holster attached her belt. She slipped the wand into it and smiled briefly and Freebird before making for the stairs with purposeful strides. Scrappy had paused indecisively at the top of the flight, seeming unsure which direction to take. Dixie started up the stairs after her as she chose her route and took off down the corridor. Dixie could hear her up ahead trying door handles and as she reached the top of the stairs and stopped to catch her breath she saw Scrappy reached the door of Guru's room. Dixie hurried on after her and saw her stop and her eyelids fluttered closed, concealing those irridescent yellow irises. She breathed deeply and Dixie almost felt, rather than saw, her reach for the handle.

"Wait! Scrappy , wait!" yelled Dixie as she tore down the hallway and committed herself to a rather impressive slide-stop on the polished wooden floor. The world seemed to slow as she skidded and reached out her hand towards Scrappy's wrist. The hand closed around the door knob, Dixie's hand closed around the pale strip of flesh between Scrappy's leather glove and the sleeve of her jacket. The world spun immediately upside down and Dixie felt as though her insides were being slowly pulled out through the big toe of her left foot. The sensation was nauseating, but suddenly she snapped back and seemed to land on her feet. The air was chill and everything seemed very bright. She was still holding Scrappy's wrist and as she looked up at the young woman she could see her hair blowing back from her face and her eyes seemed to focus beyond the closed door.

Only the door wasn't closed. The door wasn't even a door. Where the solid wood had been there was a very fine blue haze, like the heat off tarmac on a hot summer day. And beyond that was Guru, kneeling on the floor before a large metal case, in his right hand he held a framed picture of a woman, his face was raised and his eyes wide with fear.

Before him stood a woman. She was petite and clothed in a sweeping blue dress which swirled about her feet as if moving with the ebb and flow of an underwater current. Her long hair hung around her face in wet tendrils and her cold green eyes bored into Guru as if they saw into his soul. She held a heavy sword to his throat.

"Phalon" murmered Dixie. It had to be the woman Scrappy had been communicating with, she had felt an echo of her presence in the library and now she felt as though she were bathed in it. Phalon turned, not withdrawing her sword from the region of Guru's throat, and her eyes came to rest on the two women.

"Come in" she breathed.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by freebird on Nov 2, 2004, 1:36am

I have been waiting for you, and when the others arrive I will explain every thing the woman said in a eerie voice but not a voice at all sort of shallow, like a recording of a voice. Then Freebird turned towards the woman and asked what do you want with us?
There was no answer or movement from the woman. Freebird looked at Guru who was staring motionless in horror. Wondering who the woman was, Freebird asked the other two if they knew who that is? No, but I have felt her presence before Phalon said. I saw Scrappy talking with a woman. What or who is that a picture of, asked Freebird in a whisper? And what's in the box? I don't know Dixie said. Well I'm not just going to stand here and do nothing I'm going in said Freebird. Anyone going in with me? Suddenly a icy wind came from the room and stopped them in their tracks, it wouldn't let them in, no matter how hard they tried they couldn't move. Dixie yelled we have to help him. But no one heard her yell. The wind was too strong to hear anything or to move anywhere.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 2, 2004, 2:39am

The out of body experience began like all the others. The nausea, the blurred vision, the weak knees. This time however she felt light pressure on the wrist of her right hand just as she grasped the doorknob with her left. The feeling of soft skin wrapped around her wrist was comforting and frightening. Scrappy wasn’t used to people touching her. Casual touching could lead to trouble. A lack of control could lead to disaster. And Dixie was definitely touching her, almost sliding her own fingers under Scrappy’s glove. This was dangerous, and Dixie didn’t understand the power she was about to unleash.

It was too late to pull back. The blue electricity sending tendrils of fire between Scrappy’s outstretched fingers and the doorknob drew her to the cold metal. She grasped it with a sure grip and hoped for the best. She started to leave her body for the “In Between”, started to see all the things that had been through this door before. All the past, present, and sometimes brief glimpses of future happenings that had gone through the door. But something held her rooted. Something kept her there.

Dixie’s warm hand grasped her wrist in reassurance. She could almost hear Dixie whisper, “I’m right here, I won’t let you go.” Scrappy opened her eyes and watched in fascination as the door before her turned pale then opaque. Looking through the portal she saw Guru kneeling on the floor holding a picture while Phalon held her sword to his chest. Phalon looked back at the group and spoke to them. “Erchomai mesa.” She breathed.

Scrappy didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t sound threatening so she started for the door Dixie in tow. Freebird began speaking to Phalon, in Greek no less, before she could take a step. Upon completing her conversation with Phalon, Freebird leaned over and whispered to Dixie. Low enough for Scrappy not to hear over the ringing in her ears. She shook off the fuzzy feeling and tried to focus. Everything became clearer as she heard Freebird say, “Well I’m not just going to stand here and do nothing! I'm going in! Anyone going in with me?” She looked at the two of them and started for the door. An icy blast hit the three of them in the chest keeping them from entering and rescuing Guru.

“Ok. Why don’t the two of you let me try alone. I have been speaking with her and I’m pretty sure I can find out what is going on without anyone getting hurt. Ok?” She looked at Freebird and Dixie. “I think I’m going to have to have my hand back again, sorry Dixie.” Dixie reluctantly let go of Scrappy’s wrist. As she did however the door once again turned solid. “Guess I have to do this the old fashioned way.” She reached out with her still gloved hand and turned the knob. She entered the room and waited for Phalon or Guru or someone to explain.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 2, 2004, 4:45am

Scrappy silently took her position inside the room. Standing behind were Dixie and Freebird who seemed content to stand in the doorway for now. Given the circumstance it was perfectly understandable. At that moment Guru was hoping someone would see the value in standing back for a little perspective.

He remembered seeing this woman in a blue robe at the front door. He remembered he wasn't very sociable. But drawing a sword over matters of etiquette went out of style long before his time. What was the reason for this? Why the cold steel anger?

While keeping the others in his peripheral vision, Guru looked straight ahead and considered ways to start a conversation. There wasn't a whole lot to go on, but if he tossed out a few crumbs...

"I have no quarrel with you."

No reaction.

"We are trying to solve a mystery."

Still no retraction of the blade, but there was a distinct softening around the eyes.

"Are you a guest like the rest of us?"

Finally the weapon pulled back just enough to let Guru take a deep breath. It wasn't because of his words, though. The woman's attention shifted from him to Scrappy, and her facial expression betrayed a hint of familiarity. Whatever connection might exist between those two appeared to have a calming effect. That was the sign he was waiting for.

"If we can put this emergency behind us, let's get to the next emergency. Someone screamed."

"You screamed."

Guru didn't notice who spoke as he was mostly focusing his attention on the position of the blade -- a well-earned habit. "It wasn't me. But I heard it, too. The only ones not here are Joxcee and Mrs. Peacock. We've got to find them fast, or they could be in big trouble."

Little did they know the house had already claimed its first victim.



Last edited by Joxcenia, 11/12/2011, 3:14 am


---

Whoosh-ChelSierra-Muse - Twi-Saga
11/10/2011, 3:43 am Link to this post Send Email to Joxcenia   Send PM to Joxcenia Blog
 
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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



---------------------------------------------

In Search Of...

Post by phalon on Nov 3, 2004, 5:23am

Her visions weren’t always complete – she knew that. Just little fragments of people’s lives that she was allowed to see…. tiny pieces of a whole that she was left to try and fit together and interpret their meaning. And she was not always successful in doing so – not at first anyway, and here, with this Guru, she was left with nothing that made sense. Her anger over the images she’d seen of his life, was, perhaps, not warranted. She really knew so little, and she supposed she may have prematurely judged him. But still…. the image of the woman’s mutilated body…the brief glimpse into the eyes of his victim right before the body slumped to the floor after he’d shot it with that cylinder-shaped weapon…it was too much to ignore.

She raised the tip of her sword slightly, resting it under his chin rather than at his throat, and with a little pressure…the motion caused his head to tilt back a little, enabling her to see his face more clearly. She looked hard into it, hoping to find something that would explain what she’d seen.

His eyes revealed nothing, as if he were well practiced at concealing his emotion.

Tiny beads of perspiration started to form on his upper lip and along his forehead. She watched one of these beads at his hairline start to run, catch another, and gaining momentum, travel along his temple and come to rest upon his cheek. The muscles in his face twitched and she wondered if it bothered him, having it there. She had the sudden urge to wipe the never ending droplets of the sea from her own face. Absurd, she thought, to think of such things now.

Neither of them moved…. he, because the slightest movement might cause his throat to be slit, and she, because she was unwilling to do just that, based on so little information. Their stalemate ended with the sounds of a commotion outside the door.

What now, she thought, rolling her eyes as Scrappy, the shrewd looking woman she’d seen in the library, and the other woman who she followed from the bluff, appeared in the doorway. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Erchomai mesa.” Come in, she breathed.

“What do you want with us?’ the woman from the stone cottage near the bluff asked. Strange, in this place, to hear the words spoken in her own language, and she was about to reply, “What do I want with you? No – what is it you want from me? Why have I been brought here?”, when open flung the shutter and an out-of-place wind roared through the room. Phalon saw the man’s eyes dart towards the open window letting the raging storm in. A puzzled expression crossed his face, mixed with a hint of alarm, as if he wondered if he’d left the window open, and if not, who – or what - opened it?

Scrappy stepped into the room, and the action seemed to ease a bit the heavy air of tension blanketing them. The man started firing what Phalon knew to be questions from the flow of the words, directed at her. Getting no reaction, for she didn’t understand, he turned and spoke to the others.

She still stood over him as he spoke, and looking down on him from this vantage point, she noticed something she had not seen before. Not removing the sword from its place at his neck, she knelt down in front of him. He still held the picture of the woman in his hand, and she took hold of it now, turning it towards her to get a better look. He shot a blazing look of anger towards her and did not let go of the frame. It didn’t matter – she’d seen what she wanted, and raising an eyebrow, removed her hand from it. He clutched the picture to his chest and glared at her with icy blue eyes, as if she’d defiled something precious to him.

She narrowed her own eyes back at him, for what’d she seen now in the picture, was just one more piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit into place yet. With her finger, she wiped the bead of perspiration from his cheek, and as the contact was made, she flung a thought at him. "I’ll be watching you, Guru."

She didn’t know if he’d understand – or if he’d even heard it. It made no difference. It wasn’t a threat, just a simple fact.

She stood up, letting her sword fall to her side, and crossed the room to where Scrappy stood. Placing a hand on Scrappy’s shoulder, she asked without words, “What is going on in this place?"

"The screaming…. we should go investigate. You wanna come with?"

Phalon shrugged. "Sure."

Scrappy turned to leave. Wait…she’d almost forgotten. Phalon grabbed for the other woman’s wrist. "Scrappy, is this the room where you think you left my pot?"

It was Scrappy’s turn to shrug. "Nope."

“Damn”, Phalon muttered under her breath as the two filed out of the room, leaving the others nothing to do but follow.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by becka on Nov 3, 2004, 11:38am

She pulled up to the house in her shiny new truck. She took one look at the house and it made her want to turn and drive in the other direction. She parked her truck next to a Harley and then noticed a couple other cars parked out front as well. “Well at least I’m not the first one here.” she said to herself. She got out of the truck and realized she was definitely under dressed. A tank top wasn’t exactly the best thing to wear on a rainy day or in a spooky old house for that matter.

She reached into the back of the truck and grabbed her bag. “Now time to get a better look at this place,” she thought. She turned and started walking toward the house and realized she didn’t shut the truck doors. She turned and with the flip of her hand the doors to the vehicle shut with a soft thud. “This is one thing that never gets easy going in to big scary places. Well maybe I’ll just have a little peek inside before I actually go in. Hope I don’t scare anyone.”

She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to a place where she felt safe and suddenly a ghostly figure came out of her body and sailed right through the big wooden door. She kept her mind in the safe place but looked through the eyes of the ghostly figure. She was standing in a foyer no one was around. She kept walking and went to the first door she saw. She walked in to find a library full of books. “Now this is the kind of library to have,” said her ethereal self. She spun around a few times just to take in all the books that she could get lost in. “Okay focus.” She spotted a window with a mahogany table in front of it with a bunch of packets on top. She walked over to it and saw her name “Carly” on one packet. “Okay so this must be where I need to go. Well better late than never.” The ghostly figure that was herself traveled back outside through the heavy wooden door into the tall black haired woman standing outside. Carly opened her violet eyes and said “Well here goes nothing,” as she headed for the front door of the house.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 3, 2004, 10:11pm

Strangers called together for some strange reason.
Wind gusting indoors.
Readings on all instruments.
Apparitions looking similar to people present.

'And to top it all off, in the middle of it all we have a sword. History is repeating - I just know it!' These thoughts repeated like a tape loop in his mind.

No detail was too insignificant to consider in light of the possible threat. But how to tell everyone about the threat without concrete evidence? And, as it has been since the beginning of time, how do you prepare people to face something they may not believe exists?

Freebird happened to cast an eye his way as the others directed themselves down the hall. She thought there must be something important in that steel-trap-looking box to make him late.

Guru pressed buttons in sequence to unlock the lid, then withdrew a spool of wire and a thick silver cylinder. Next he slid into an ill-fitting jacket and placed both items in interior pockets. The jacket may have been loose, but the gaze Freebird cast upon him felt tight as a noose. So maybe a little disarming conversation?

"Ever wonder how the Olympian gods defeated the Titans? They did it by being prepared."

Curiosity already had the better of her. She had to ask, "What are you gonna do with that?"

"Nothing, I hope."

"What does it do?"

"Bring the power of Zeus to Earth."



---

Whoosh-ChelSierra-Muse - Twi-Saga
11/10/2011, 3:49 am Link to this post Send Email to Joxcenia   Send PM to Joxcenia Blog
 
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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by joxcenia on Nov 5, 2004, 2:03am

Joxcee felt as if a face was a few inches from her own, and the urge to open her eyes and take a look overcame her. NO! She threw her hands up over her eyes to prevent herself from taking a peek. I've gotta get out of here! But how? Joxcee took a deep breath. Get a grip, Joxcee… there has to be another way out. Just feel your way along the wall and look for an object that will open a door into either the dining room, or the convention hall.

Joxcee rolled her body around so that she now faced the wall that had been against her back, never letting it out of her touch. No way was she going to get lost in the middle of a dark empty space with nothing to guide her. Okay… the convention hall is to my right, and the dining room is to my left… isn’t it? Crap! Who cares, just pick a direction and go for it! Joxcee felt her way along the wall, moving slowly, as she held one hand out further than the other to find the wall that should be the back wall of the convention hall. It had to be close, as the fireplace wasn’t that wide, but she couldn’t seem to find it. Her hand came to a brick that was sticking out further than the others. Don’t pull on it… you could end up back in the fireplace. Joxcee jerked her hand back, and as she did she heard the sound of bricks grinding against each other. Her eyes flew open wide just as the wall swirled around.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 7, 2004, 3:23am

This has been one hell of a night she thought. I haven’t even had dinner and I’ve been here, how long now? Oh well. She watched as Guru stood warily and Phalon relaxed her grip a bit. This one was very perceptive. Scrappy didn’t trust Guru, but, then how could she trust a dead woman either. Each had their own motives. Their own agendas. She and Phalon would have to have a private talk soon. She may be dead but she felt comfortable, familiar, trustworthy. Soon, over dinner she would get some explanations from these people, and then she would get the truth from Phalon.

Scrappy watched without fear as Phalon crossed the room and gently put a blue tinged hand on her shoulder. Scrappy waited for the inevitable pain. “What is going on in this place?” effortlessly entered her mind. Scrappy took a moment to notice the difference. No pain. Only a light tingling coursed up her spine. She have to make a point to ask Dixie what exactly it was she had done to her. Whatever it was she had done to keep her from leaving her body this time it had obviously affected the unbearable headaches as well. Note to self, thank Dixie later.

She shook off her thoughts long enough to indicate to Phalon that they needed to investigate the source of the screaming and ask if she cared to tag along. Phalon agreed and they began making their way to the door. Just as she was about to leave however Phalon grabbed her wrist and sent a thought, “Is this the room where you think you left my pot?” “Nope” was all she could think to say.

They filed out of the room and headed toward the landing. “Anyone got any ideas on where we should start?” She looked at the gathered faces and saw only blank stares. “Ok, then. Let’s try this. Why don’t we go down to the kitchen, find some food, and have a good long chat? See if we can figure out where to go first. As a team.” She looked at them all again. “Any objections?” No answer. “Good then it’s decided.”

Scrappy headed for the stairs with long sure strides.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by dixielandyankee on Nov 8, 2004, 12:54pm

Dixie stood and shook her hand aimlessly, it felt a little like pins and needles, or like getting a shock from an electric fence. She looked at it sternly, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. 'Not melted off the bone or anything' she mused with a chuckle. What had happened? She had just reached out to stop Scrappy going into Guru's room when the whole world had gone shimmery and weird. Seeing
Phalon she immediately realised that she was sharing Scrappy's powers of vision, and she marvelled at the woman in the blue robe, who stood tall, for someone [sign in to see URL], short, and brandished a sword like a demon. She couldn't work out whether it was the experience of the 'in-between', or the experience of brushing Scrappy's bare wrist that was causing the tingly after-effect, and then she blushed furiously to imagine that she had even had that last thought.

The excitement of a moment before seemed to have calmed down, Scrappy had gone into one of her trances again, after she had let go of her, but without the physical drain it usually placed on her. Dixie scratched her nose and then shook her hand once more for good measure as she cocked one ear to listen to Guru and Freebird talking behind her. She could make out something about 'the power of Zeus' and turned to see Guru secreting a large metal cylinder inside his coat. She felt her flesh creep slightly, knowing that it couldn't be good. She didn't really trust that guy with all his weird gadgets, she figured he probably had the means to blow them all up or something, and she knew that her powers were no match for a neutron bomb r whatever he had just hidden up his jumper.

Her stomach growled again, and she put her hand on it apologetically, just as Scrappy spoke.

"Why don’t we go down to the kitchen, find some food, and have a good long chat? See if we can figure out where to go first. As a team.” Scrappy proposed to them all. Everyone kind of stood there, a little stupidly Dixie [sign in to see URL] then, having ascertained that no one really objected to the idea of dinner Scrappy strode off towards the stairs.

Immediately Dixie kicked herself for not being more [sign in to see URL] felt like she should have said something to back up Scrappy's idea, especially as she felt suddenly bonded to the woman over what had happened.

"Hey," she called after her "wait up a second. I was thinking about the scream. Y'know... Joxie's not here, and I haven't seen her for ages. Do you think she's okay? I mean, I wouldn't like to be alone in this house and I have more ways of defending myself than most. She wiggled her fingers. "Hocus pocus" she joked, smiling. I was wondering if we should look for her before we sit down to [sign in to see URL] a team" she finished.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by joxcenia on Nov 9, 2004, 3:22am

Joxcee was ready to reach out and grab the same brick she had touched earlier that had gotten her away from the fire before, hoping that she was quick enough that the flames didn’t burn her flesh or catch her clothes on fire. Not that she really wanted to be entombed in the darkness once again, but it was preferable to being burnt alive. She glanced back at the pit quickly as her hand shot out, then pulled back. The pit contained no flames, and as she neared it and reached out to touch the logs, she discovered the air and wood were extremely cold. An aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air and tugged at her nose, leading Joxcee into the dining room where she discovered the buffet table laden with platters and bowls of all kinds of victuals. yummmmm…. I could eat a horse! Joxcee thought to herself as she headed to fill her plate.

“Madam!”

Joxcee jumped and spun around to see Mrs. Peacock at the back wall behind her, she was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that was sitting on a pillar to the left of the fireplace. The woman had been on her right, her blind side, as she exited the fireplace, and so had gone unseen.

“You must never walk through the fireplaces. They are on automated timers and can burst into flames at any given moment,” said Mrs. Peacock with a haughty air.

Now she tells me. As Joxcee turned her back to the woman she rolled her eyes upward.

“Shall I inform the others that dinner is served?”

Joxcee turned to face the woman with a faux smile on her lips. “Sure, you do that.” And get as far away from me a possible, you frightful hag.



Last edited by Joxcenia, 11/10/2011, 11:57 pm


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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 9, 2004, 1:00pm

She started down the stairs taking two at a time. Dixie yelled from the landing “Hey! Wait up a second!” Scrappy stopped dead. She just couldn’t resist the pull of Dixie’s voice. She looked up and grinned as Dixie caught up.

"I was thinking about the scream. Y'[sign in to see URL]'s not here, and I haven't seen her for ages. Do you think she's okay? I mean, I wouldn't like to be alone in this house and I have more ways of defending myself than most. She wiggled her fingers. 'Hocus pocus' she joked, smiling. I was wondering if we should look for her before we sit down to [sign in to see URL] a team"

Scrappy giggled a little to herself as Dixie wiggled her fingers in the air. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. I don’t want to leave any one behind. Or vulnerable for that matter. Safety in numbers I guess.” Scrappy smirked a little then headed for the bottom landing.

She absently rubbed her wrist where Dixie had grabbed her. An interesting tingling still ran up her hand. It was grounding and unsettling at the same time. Scrappy fished around in her pocket for her missing glove, then replaced it with finesse on her fingers. The feel of the warm soft leather adding a little comfort to her frayed nerves.

She spent most of her life avoiding people. Avoiding feeling anything. Literally and metaphorically. The gloves were like an old friend. Comfortable, trustworthy, safe. Without them she was vulnerable, open to outside influences she couldn’t control. Open to attack and injury she couldn’t prevent. It was all about control. Control your power or die. Her life from years before had taught her that. All too well. Wear the gloves and keep people at bay or get hurt. Especially people you love.

The group made the bottom in short order. Scrappy took a deep breath to gather strength and get her bearings. “Now if I were Joxcee where would I be?” She said to herself. She turned to the group, “The last I heard, Joxcee was going to see about dinner. So I’m thinking we should start in the kitchen. Anyone know where that is?”

Dixie stepped up, “Uh I think I was there earlier, but then I got turned around or this house turned me around so I’m not sure where to start.”

“Well maybe we should just go where you were and see if things have changed. Which way?”

Dixie pointed down the hallway past the stairs. “There’s a passageway that leads to the back of the house. That’s where I started.”

“All right let’s start there then.” Scrappy waited as the group began filing down the hallway. Guru taking the lead. “Good.” She thought, “He’s got the cannon under his coat let him take point.” As Dixie started down the passageway following the others Scrappy called her back for a moment. “Hey. Hang on a second.” Dixie turned and waited.

Scrappy looked into her eyes, trying to see if there was anything in there she could trust. Anything she could pick up on that might indicate an ulterior motive. Who was she kidding. Everyone here had an ulterior motive. The question was, was Dixie’s compatible with her own? Dixie smiled up at Scrappy and reached for her hand. Scrappy allowed the contact and then she saw it. Deep inside, compassion, fearlessness, kindness, strength. “Ok,” thought Scrappy “guess I’ll stick a foot in the water and see what happens. Won’t get anywhere if I don’t go for it.”

Scrappy squeezed Dixie’s hand gently and spoke too low for the rest to hear. "I’d really like to talk to you about what happened up there. I’m dying to know how you did that. Think we could hash this out a little later?” she pasted on her most charming smile.

“Sure. Whenever you like. After we find Joxcee.”

“Absolutely, after we find Joxcee, and get some food. I could hear your stomach all the way down the hall.” Scrappy grinned as Dixie blushed a little. It looked good on her. “Let’s go before they get too far away.” Scrappy and Dixie headed down the hall following the others. Into what no one knew. But if they worked as a team this time maybe no one would get hurt.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 11, 2004, 1:08am

The ensemble made their way downstairs ... to the second floor ... turn and down again ... when one by one they were overtaken by what seemed a dreamlike sensation. In all the gloom and unrest of this unsettling mansion, they sought but dared not hope. And to their amazement it was indeed to be. Yes, that smelled good!

The food found them. As if by telepathy the silent decision was made to follow their noses. So they landed back in the foyer pondering the few open doors available.

"We have a dining room. Obvious choice, anyone?"

A finger pointed and eyes dutifully followed. To a major distraction. It was just enough to put a lid on the good feeling they got from the expected feast and put them back in the prevailing mood of the night.

Adorning the wall beside the dining room door was an imposing portrait of a male figure in dated attire. On the frame was mounted a simple brass plate with a name inscribed in block letters.

"Wayne Rollins"

It wasn't easy to form an opinion about the image before them. There were contradictions. If you looked at the face from the nose down, he was at ease and smiling. But the eyes told a different story ... a story of dominance. The drive to control at any cost. Power for its own sake. This was a man who got what he wanted.

Scrappy had a very definite opinion. "They couldn't find the artist, so they hung the painting."

That broke the tension. A little nervous laughter began rolling through the group as they proceeded to the dining room.

And they were overheard by a new set of ears.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by freebird on Nov 11, 2004, 10:48pm

Freebird walks into the room with a glazed look in her eyes.
"Wow" that smells great I have the munchies.
I figured I could handle this whole house situation better now.
It beats being freaked out all the time.
This house reminds me of a movie I saw.
"Rose Red" By Stephen King.
Always changing but it feels familiar some how.
After I eat I think I might go do some more investigating, anyone
wanna join me? Well lets eat.
Suddenly there is a loud growling noise coming from the hallway.
It was a eerie noise not like any noise anyone has ever heard before. Where is that noise coming from everyone wondered.



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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A Window Seat

Post by phalon on Nov 11, 2004, 11:45pm

The aroma of food was enticing to her; intoxicating, and had led her to follow the group into the dining room. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Hours? A day? Centuries? The anticipation turned sour, however, once she saw the vast array of foods spread on the table. Now the scents were overbearing, the sight of the food; leaving her nauseated. Taking repast in her present state was not an option - dead people simply did not eat, she realized. A melancholy sigh escaped her lips, and she resigned herself to be a silent observer of this feast. She moved to place her hand on Scrappy’s shoulder. “You’ll let me know what is discussed?” she asked. “Afterwards? Even the smallest detail may shed a clue as to why I am here, and how I may get home.”

Scrappy nodded, and Phalon crossed the room to sit on one of the window seats built into the large windows which lined one entire wall of the room and overlooked the sea. She sat far away enough that the food was out of her sight, but close enough so that she could carefully observe them. Their eyes, their facial expressions – she thought she may be able to learn much from this little dinner party, although she could not understand the words that they would speak.

She sat with her back against one side of the window frame, and her feet propped up against the other. With the tip of her sword, she began to absentmindedly pick seaweed from between the laces of her boots, while waiting for the others to get their food and seat themselves at the long table in front of her, and wondered if she’d ever feel sated again.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 13, 2004, 1:33am

Scrappy filed into the dining room behind the rest of them. The smell of the food making her hunger flare up. She crossed the large hall and seated herself rather ungracefully in one of the tall backed chairs across from the windows. She always liked looking out as she ate. But this time the darkness outside was impenetrable. The fire causing the room to be reflected. Doppelgangers in the windows of everyone at the table. She could use this to her advantage. Use them to see what they wanted to hide. Watch, without being observed.

She waited while the food was being passed around and distributed. Everything on the table was rich and smelled wonderful. There was only one fleeting thought about it being unsafe to eat. Hunger won out over safety and for once Scrappy didn’t care about safety. She was hungry and didn’t want to wait.

After everyone had taken a few bites Scrappy decided it was time. Time to share and find out just exactly these people expected to get out of this. She knew she wouldn’t get them to share without first telling them her story. But not too much. Just enough to get them talking.

“All right everyone.” She looked up from her plate to see if she had their attention. “Time for true confessions. I’ll start. If you haven’t guessed yet my name is Scrappy. I was born in a tiny town no one ever heard of so I won’t bore you with the details. Never stayed in one place very long as a child. My mother was descended from gypsies and my father very Irish. So they both had the wandering spirit thing going. I learned a lot but it sucked not having anything solid to hang onto sometimes. When I was 10 my parents were killed. Some maniac with a sword. He missed me. And that’s all you need to know about that.”

She looked around the table to see if they were still listening. All eyes were on her. Reading her just as much as she was reading them. “Any questions so far?” she looked around the room again.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 13, 2004, 2:08am

Question? Yes, there were questions! There were nothing but questions ever since setting foot in this infernal place. And the biggest question of all was ... whom to ask.

But all good investigators know to start small, let the case build at its own pace. There were recorders still functioning - still gathering answers to future questions. There were looks and glances, glimpses and peeks, scans and perusals, all manner of discreet reconnaissance flying around the table like popcorn. So many question.

But only one question mattered to Guru: would they survive this house?

He took a silent but deep breath. A cleansing breath. The fact of everyone sitting down to talk just improved their chances.

Scrappy still wore her gloves. A curiosity, at the very least. Guru thought he might contribute to innocuous conversation by broaching the subject, then he reminded himself of his status as reigning King of the Social Blunder. Too late - the words were escaping...

"You have excellent taste in gloves. Do you wear them everywhere?"

Open mouth - insert foot. 'What if she wears them out of necessity? What if she suffered a tragic disfigurement to her hands? What if she has something in her past she doesn't want to remember right now?'

Another question...

...to be answered by...

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by dixielandyankee on Nov 14, 2004, 8:23am

'Man that guy's an insensitive dork' thought Dixie as she leaned across the table to help herself to a gargantuan scoop of mashed potato. Balancing her spoon and keeping one eye on Scrappy was harder than it looked, the woman looked uncomfortable at the question and her eyes shifted left and right slightly as though she wasn't too sure whether to give the truthful answer or to make one up on the spot.

"I'm pretty sure Scrappy's taste in gloves won't get us very far in this mystery" she stated quietly. All eyes around the table shifted to her ad she sat up slightly, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her eye.

"why don't we just go around the table, everyone can say a bit about themselves... you know, whatever they're comfortable [sign in to see URL] then we can do the Q&A after, once we're all on a level footing."

"I'll go next, as Scrappy's started us [sign in to see URL]'m Dixie, I do tricks" she began, with a slight smile, "seriously folks, my mother died when I was little, my father is a completely regular [sign in to see URL] from the fact that he never told me that my mother was one of the most powerful white witches of her [sign in to see URL], you know, when I hit puberty and found that I could make things happen just by being a little moody, that was a bit of a [sign in to see URL] into total denial for a time and then realised my powers could be used for many good reasons and started learning how to use them. That would be about 4 years ago now..." she paused, a little stunned by her own forthright account of her life to date.

"In answer to frequently asked [sign in to see URL] I do have a wand" she indicated her belt holster which snugly held the item in question, " no I don't use a broom, I find it a little draughty in [sign in to see URL] sadly, no spell I can do will help you get laid" she finished with a laugh, "you wouldn't believe how often that comes up! Okay, who wants to go next?"



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by joxcenia on Nov 16, 2004, 4:11pm

Joxcee stuffed her face as she glanced from person to person. Not many here, there are far more tags on the table in the library than who actually came. Wonder if they had a bad feeling about coming here too, only they listened and stayed away. Not me, no… I had to bite the bullet and prove to myself I ain’t no scaredy cat. emoticon Joxcee listened to the conversation that went on around her, only half listening. She was heady with adrenaline from her near death experience and was finding it hard not to burst out into laughter at things that wouldn’t have tickled her fancy normally. Poor Guru, stuck in a room with a bunch of women. Poor us, we’re the ones who have to look at him. Why doesn't he shave a gap in that unibrow? Sheesh! Doesn't he know it makes him look like a gorilla? Joxcee choked on her drink, which thankfully hid her merriment at others expense. Not that anyone would know what she was thinking. Would they? Can any of them read minds? Nah… this place is just getting to me. Can’t wait until it’s time to leave.

Joxcee took her turn at introducing herself. “I’m Joxcenia. I am here because Kym couldn’t be here and she asked me to take her place. Actually, she asked Le to take her place, but Le declined.” Smart girl… er… woman. “So here I am. I don’t do tricks, of any kind. And I’d rather leave the ghost busting to the rest of you. I’m just here to see that things run smoothly, and to find out who the winner is. So ‘I’ have to be the last one to leave… and since I am working here, I don’t get to win anything for sticking it out.” Joxcee sat down abruptly and gulped down the last of her RC. What was that? I think my near death experience has totally screwed me up. Someone should lock me up in the attic. emoticon No wait… What if the house is listening? It might do the things that pop into my head. Okay… Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 18, 2004, 1:10am

'Okay ... think, think, think.'

Operation Demon Hunt started under similar circumstances twenty-four years ago. Strangers with unusual histories were invited to a remote location for some harmless paranormal amusement. Fun and games, the invitation said. The invitation lied.

Now in a gloomy mansion on a rocky coast overlooking a troubled sea, an invited cast of characters may not know if they are vying for a prize ... or fighting for their very lives.

Guru marvelled at the honesty around the table ... considering all the chaos that kept threatening to tear the group apart. Stress causes some people to withdraw and others to reach out. The mood at the moment seemed to favor the reach-out type. (Except for the one in the window - the one with the sword.) Guru decided to reach out.

"The beginning is the half of every action. That's an old Greek proverb. So does anyone think we are half way to whatever awaits us here? The only way we'll ever know is if we keep the lines of communication open. I'd like to suggest we meet regularly at this table to share notes on our experiences. Any detail - however trivial - could give us a vital clue. Yes, we were invited ostensibly to participate in a game. Don't dismiss me when I say there might be more going on here."

True confession time. Guru knew he had to give of himself if he ever wanted to get the necessary openness in return. But could he tell them everything?

"You've probably figured out by now that I've done this kind of thing before. All that gear isn't exactly stereo equipment. Well, you would be right. In 1980 I received a similar invitation to attend what was billed as a demon hunt near Portland, Oregon. We found something alright. And it followed me home."

'Don't think about those memories. Don't think, don't think, don't think.'

"Long story short - my wife and several of our close friends were killed by ... I don't know ... nobody knows ... something evil. And powerful. It possessed their bodies and drove them to do the most unspeakable acts. Finally they turned on each other."

One memory muscled its way past the iron curtain of willpower and blazed a warning sign across his consciousness. The sword. The sword he finally knocked to the ground by cutting off the hands of the man wielding it. If that same evil infested this house, it probably still had its taste for swordplay. And one sword was undeniably in the house already. That is to say ... one sword other than his.

"This will seem like a strange question, but please give it serious consideration for a moment. Has anyone seen one of the other houseguests in a place where they logically should not have been? And did they behave normally?"

The wearing of swords had long since fallen out of favor. Why would someone in this modern age bring such an anachronism to a gathering of harmless paranormal amusement? Kung Fu masters teach the secret of using ears as eyes. Guru used his training to focus his ears on the location of the one who worried him most.

And he heard nothing.

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 18, 2004, 2:16am

Scrappy listened as Dixie, Joxcee and Guru took their turns. She was grateful to have a momentary reprieve from Guru’s previous question. She kept running over the explanation in her head. Hell it sounded weird even to her. She was never very good at explaining that particular part of her past. Everyone always gave her the same range of looks.

It always started with pity, over her parent’s deaths at such an early age presumably. As if she needed it or should acknowledge it to help THEM feel better. Then came the carefully hidden horror as she described their deaths in great detail. This was always a way for Scrappy to get back at people for being nosy. Make them pay for asking the questions, make them understand that knowing things about someone’s life wasn’t always pleasant. She did it for shock value and self satisfaction. She couldn’t help but want other people to experience the same horror she had. Even if they would never understand. She wanted them to have a glimpse of the torture she lived everyday.

The last and most fundamental look was always, always fear. Even if there were more stuffed in between the pity and horror, fear always won out. Fear of what a child who had experienced that could do. Fear of the coldness that was always displayed in her eyes. Fear of knowing there was something she had lost and would never regain. The part of a child that believed in Santa Clause and Fairies and that part that knew safety and laughter and happiness were a given. That intangible childhood innocence, which once destroyed in a moment’s pain, could never be replaced or repaired.

Occasionally Scrappy relished that moment. The point at which the questioner realized he had gone too far. The moment when he realized that the knowing was far worse than the not knowing. That split second of indecision over running away or becoming angry. She could always see it in there revealed in their eyes. The little piece of her that would be carried away like a burr to fester and cause nightmares. She reveled at seeing the change that she caused. It was powerful and she never felt remorse for it.

Scrappy looked around the table. How much should she tell? Could she do to these people what she did to all the others? These people hadn’t purposefully stuck a finger into her soft spot. They had blundered into her past by virtue of proximity. They were all in the same boat. All attempting to figure out this mystery together.

She wiped up the last of her dinner with a small piece of roll then wiped her mouth and turned her attention to Guru. “I’d like to answer your question before I address what you just said if you don’t mind.” Guru nodded his assent.

“Good. First, the gloves are necessary. I have the ability to see events through touch. I can’t turn it off so the gloves protect me from inadvertently triggering my ‘gift’. Most times I see past events. Occasionally it comes as flashes of foresight. I can’t always tell which at the time. When I touch things without the gloves I get, pulled into what I call the in-between. I kind of leave my body and become witness and sometimes participant in the things I see. I think that’s what happened with Phalon over there. At some point in the far past she had contact with the pot, and because she happened to be in close proximity when I touched it, we made a connection.”

Scrappy looked over at the woman in the window. The sadness was radiating off her body in waves of deep blue. Her purpose here was unclear, but, Scrappy felt compelled to help her anyway. She just didn’t, at the moment, know how. She turned her attention back to the group. “One more thing. The yellow eyes aren’t just a pretty anomaly. I can see the energy that flows around people and objects. Call it auras if you like. So just a little warning, don’t even think about lying to me. I will know.” She waited to see if anyone got offended. “With that being said I’d like to ask a question about the last time you did this Guru.”



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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The Party Crasher

Post by phalon on Nov 19, 2004, 12:46am

Phalon observed from her place at the window as they each took a turn speaking. The shrewd blonde had shown a slender rod of willow…a sorceress then? Interesting. The short redhead seemed to be having a difficult time trying to contain laughter; nervous, as if she would rather be elsewhere…concealing fear? Phalon had the urge to walk up behind her, tap her on the shoulder, and with her icy breath, whisper ‘Boo’ into her ear. The man, Guru, sat with his back towards her, and though she could not see his face, she heard an urgency in the words as he said his piece. And there was Scrappy…a coolness in her voice, but Phalon could see blazing heat in her eyes as she spoke.


She watched them all, and though she didn’t understand their words, she felt as if she were eavesdropping – an intruder at their party; and she let the sounds of their conversation fade into the background of her mind. She turned her head away from them and faced the window, gazing out at the sea in front of her. She could almost imagine the din of the discussion taking place behind her being the sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore, and then the frothy sound as the foam of their remains was dragged back out again.

It was comforting to her, watching it. She had been surrounded by it all her life in Greece. She’d marveled at its powers; one minute calm and inviting, the next cold, harsh and unforgiving. Ironic, she thought, that something which had awed and inspired her in life was the cause of her death, taking her from a place she loved and unceremoniously dumping her at the doorstep of this ghastly grim one. Fickle thing, she mused, never to be trusted. The eerie hiss of the waves outside the window filled her ears, mocking in its betrayal of her.

But wait….she realized the hiss was not the sea at all, instead the sound coming from behind her, and it was equally as mocking as when she thought it was the sea. “Phaaa-lon. I’m back, Phalon, but this time it’s not you I seek to torment. Jealous?”

Even before she turned her head to look at him, she recognized the voice which called her name…she hated the way he spoke it; its venomous sound forever etched into her mind. When she did look, she saw him standing there, the table where the others sat separating him from her. The same grin was smeared across his face as when they met previously; twisted, leering and utterly evil. “You!” she screamed.

“Shhhh….Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?” He put a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence, knowing she did not understand his words, and spread his arm wide to indicate he meant those seated at the table. She realized it was only she that could see and hear him. He started approaching the table, advancing towards Scrappy. He was almost upon her, and with her back facing towards him, Scrappy was unaware that this hideous beast was behind her.

Phalon stood, and threw her sword has one would throw a javelin. Instinct. Her aim was true and the arc perfect as it sailed over Scrappy’s head and hit its intended mark squarely in his chest, but the throw had been reflex and as soon as the sword left her hand she knew it would have no effect on him…and she was right. The sword passed through him and stuck, embedded in the wall behind him. He slapped his chest to show to her he was unharmed, his laugh ridiculing her as he continued towards Scrappy. Phalon watched in horror as Scrappy’s face went ashen; all color drained from it, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Another victim to his insidious form of torturing the mind…and how to stop him? The steel of the sword could not hurt him; he’d already proven that twice. Then it dawned on her…it only took a moment. The sword was real – solid; and he was not. Neither was she. She remembered how his hands on hers made her skin crawl when he held them to her sword as he rammed himself upon it…Held them there. If he could physically control her, why not she him?

Then she saw it…a brief flash of steel that he’d been concealing behind his back. A sword?! He wielded a sword also?! He laughed again when he saw that she’d seen it, and then raised it as if he meant to strike Scrappy.

She took a step back, lunged forward, and in fluid motion crashed into an empty chair, tipping it forward so its high runged back leaned against the table, and scrambled up it using the rungs as ladder. Now on the table, she propelled herself towards him, caught him by the neck, and sent them both crashing to the floor.

He was caught off guard by her assault, and she easily gained control, straddling him and using her knees to keep his arms pinned to the floor. She raised her hand back, and with full force, drove the heel of her open palm into his nose. As the contact was made, she heard his howl of pain. Or was that hers?

CRACK!

A blow received from behind. The world around her flashed white…violent, searing pain…unbearable…and raging through her body. In a brief instant of disbelief, she thought, ‘A lightning bolt delivered by Zeus, himself, from Mount Olympus. Why?’ She felt it travel down her arm, out her hand and into him. He vanished from beneath her. “I did it.” she barely whispered, wondering at the same time what exactly she had done.

The pain did not depart with him though, and as the side of her face slammed the floor, she thought, ‘So this is how it feels to die…. again.’ And then, like him, she faded into nothingness.

---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by freebird on Nov 20, 2004, 8:59am

What... What... What just happened? Freebird asked, as she sat
trembling. I think things just got a lot more weird.
I need to find out whats going on in this house. There is a secret here that each one of us has to figure out like a puzzle, I think.
When we start putting the pieces together and tell each other what we find out , I have a feeling this whole thing will unravel and
start to have a meaning to all this madness.
Oh in case you all haven't figured out by now, I'm a big baby when it comes to things I have no control over. I'm not scared, I just like to keep things in perspective.
I can't explain what just went on but I would like an answer.
Does anyone have any suggestions? Or know how to bring her back?
I wonder if it has something to do with that dusty pot I saw in the Library on the table, it looks like it hadn't been used in years. guru, can you tell us where she is and how we can help?
If you know anything now's the time to come clean.
If ANYONE knows anything speak up before more of us start missing. Then a scream from a distance was heard. From inside the walls...

---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 20, 2004, 11:53am

Scrappy was about to speak when she felt a chill run up her spine. She looked over her shoulder but didn’t see anything. She shrugged it off, turned her attention back to Guru and continued. “ You said that you had. . . “ She paused as a draft blew across her arm. She looked behind her as Phalon’s sword went sailing past and stuck in the wall behind her. She looked up and started to stand, as Phalon shot across the room.

There it was again. Warm breath on her neck. Gooseflesh rising up to her ear. A barely heard whisper. Deep and menacing. “I missed you once, child. It won’t happen again.”

Cold fear settled in her chest, an unwelcome and unusual sensation for her. She knew that voice and the recognition brought back tactile memories. Memories of his breath on her neck as he tried to hold her down. Fetid and warm from too much alcohol and unattended rotten teeth.

His hand was on her shoulder now and something sharp was in her back. Scrappy attempted to stand again but the cold energy from the hand slid to her neck, holding her in her chair. She tried to scream, but his calloused fingers squeezed the breath from her throat. The voice was whispering in her ear again, “Now, now, no struggling, this will all be over soon.”

The sharp object at her back penetrated her ribcage, thrusting through her chest, just below her heart, with mind numbing ease. She looked down at her chest expecting copious amounts of blood, but there was none; only the shiny silver tip of a sword protruding from her chest. Pain rose in waves shooting to the ends of her fingers, nearly paralyzing her. Gasping for breath, she attempted to grip the end of the offending object and push it from her. Her fingers slipped through it like warm butter. She tried to talk herself through it. “Get a grip, Scrappy, this isn’t real, this isn’t happening.”

“Oh, but it is.” he laughed.

She attempted to free herself from his grasp once again as Phalon came flying across the table, catching her attacker by the neck and sending them both to the floor in a heap. The sword still stuck, somehow, in Scrappy’s chest. As his hand left the hilt, the in-between threatened to take her. The memories flooding in. . .



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by scrappyamazon on Nov 20, 2004, 4:04pm

As the in-between took her and the memories overwhelmed, Scrappy tried to focus her vision. The pain was almost too much to bear. Her chest felt like it had been split open and her lungs burned like she had inhaled napalm. Her hands and legs gone numb from shock. She let it go and allowed the memories and visions to pull her in. She was there now, fully in the in-between, she watched, standing on the edge, waiting for the events of her past to unfold like a movie. Unable to move or prevent the horror she knew was about to occur. And knowing she must let it.

The three of them were standing in a clearing in the deep part of the woods just outside the estate. Her mother, beautiful and strong. Long dark hair, golden eyes, and a will that could outlast the very mountains. Her father, fair hair that glowed in the sun, steadfast and loyal, willing to live and die by her word alone. Their ten year old daughter. Red gold hair, eyes like her mother and a happy innocence that was about to be destroyed.

They had spent the morning picking spring flowers, chasing butterflies and being happy to have each other. Believing in the perfection of the universe and forgetting for a few hours that the universe by its very nature is Change. That God is a cruel joke, invented by man, to subjugate and ensnare.

Scrappy closed her eyes on the scene. She did not need to see it to remember what happened. She had replayed it every day in her mind. She could still smell the grass and feel the warm breeze on her skin. The sun on her face was like the Ravens in old Fairytales. A trickster come to lead her in to the darkness of despair. The laughter from these people she had loved turned to an ominous din as the scene changed from one of happiness to one of terror.

Scrappy looked to the point in the tree line where she knew he would appear. He did not fail her. He came crashing through the overgrowth swinging his blade like a scythe. Screaming words of unintelligible intensity, telling them all that her mother was a witch and should be destroyed for the good of mankind.

Her father, ever the hero, ran to intercept the threat, weaponless. Scrappy watched with blinding clarity as the shining sliver of death removed her father’s head in a spray of crimson. Cleanly cut, her father crumpled in a heap mid stride, his head rolling across the dewy grass. The sun shining on his hair turning it to liquid gold.

The murderer turned toward her mother now, covered in her father’s blood, as if it were a war trophy, fairly won and to be displayed proudly. A feral grin running across his features. “You are mine now witch. I will have the secrets you withheld.” He leveled the sword at her and advanced, sure of her imminent capture.

It was the first time Scrappy had ever seen fear on her mother’s face. With an iron grip her mother grabbed ten year old Scrappy’s wrist and hurled her toward the forest. “Run! Run, honey and don’t come back!” Her mother whirled back, knowing she would be obeyed, and faced the on-coming threat. Like a mother bear protecting her cub, she rose up to her full and commanding height. “Stop!” she screamed at him. He skidded to a halt, sword point inches away from her throat.

“Tell me what I want to know and I will spare your child.” He cooed.

“But I, will not spare you.” She leapt at him, fingers arched, claws out. He staggered back caught off guard by her sudden movement, his sword grazed her neck leaving a thin angry line under her jaw. Her nails removing small trails of skin from his face around his eyes. They fell, with him landing on top of her, straddling her waist, pinning her arms to her sides

He held the sword above her head ready to strike, “Then you will take your secrets to your grave.”

Scrappy watched. This was the moment that would change everything. She couldn’t just stand there and do nothing and yet she knew there was nothing she could do. She sprinted across the glade her heavy motorcycle boots decimating the tender blades of grass as she ran. She watched as her ten year old self ran across the glade from the other side, wielding a tree branch, the end of which revealed a long sharp break.

Scrappy was too late and too far away. Split second actions that would take a lifetime to erase from memory would unfold as they had. She continued to run as she watched. The murderer lifted up his arms ready to plunge the sword into her mother. The child holding the branch as though it was a bayonet reached her mother’s attacker the instant before he could accomplish his goal. With as much force as she could muster, the child ran the branch through the back of the man astride her mother. His eyes widened in shock as he reached down with one hand to try and remove the offending stake. His hand came back bloodied as he fell forward, the force of his descending body driving the sword through her mother’s chest.

Dual voices, one older, one young, screamed in unison. “NO!”

The child pulled the man’s body off her mother as Scrappy came to a halt. As he rolled off and came to rest on his side he had a few last words for her. “You will die by my hand someday, child.”

“Yes. But not today.” The golden eyed child replied.

The child approached Scrappy as she fell to her knees. “You must go now.” She said quietly. The child reached for Scrappy’s chin and tilted it up slightly, golden eyes meeting golden eyes. “You must go and fight. Be strong. This wasn’t for nothing.”

“I understand.” This last part, the interaction between her and the child, she knew had never happened. But she also knew that it was what she needed to get back.

Scrappy stood and headed for the treeline. . .

Scrappy’s eyes snapped open as she came to. The ethereal sword now gone from her chest. She bolted out of her chair like it was on fire. Scrambling backwards away from the table, the chair slamming to the floor behind her. Seeing Phalon’s sword still stuck in the wall, she grabbed for it, waving it in front of her as if to ward off any more unseen demons. Reaching for her gun she pointed it at the nearest person.

“Where is he!?” she screamed. Specks of blood coming from the streams running from her nose and mouth sprayed across the table. She reached up, still holding the gun in a death grip and attempted to wipe away the sickly warm substance. She only managed to smear it across her cheek and chin. Making her face look gruesome in the firelight.

“Where did he go!?” The others around the table attempted to approach her. “Stay away from me!” The tears were flowing now. Blinding her to the room around her. Exhaustion took over, both emotional and physical. Scrappy’s legs gave out and she collapsed on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by joxcenia on Nov 20, 2004, 5:03pm

Joxcee noticed Guru and Scrappy glancing at a window off and on. They were up to something, it was obvious, even though they tried to make everyone believe they were at odds. Lord, keep me safe. And thanks for helping me not end up like the roasted turkey on the buffet table. Amen.

“Holy Crap!” Joxcee screamed, as a chair went scraping across the floor and fell against the table. She watched as the chair bounced and creaked as though someone were stepping on it. Then Scrappy went pale and started having some type of convulsions, and when she seemed to come to, she threw her arms around like she had a weapon. And then she did have a weapon. Note to self: Remember to have Kym set up a metal detecting device next time. Sheesh! I’ll have to live through this to give her that feedback. And I won’t be back here again, if I make it out alive this time. Joxcee backed up against the wall behind her, weighing her options. Okay. There are only two ways out of here. The doors behind Scrappy, or the fireplace, which has a blazing fire in it once again. What to do… What to do… think… think… think…



---

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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)



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Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 21, 2004, 4:05pm

'It's happening!'

Guru barely had time to think those words as his body sprang into action. The chair crashing next to him would have made anyone jump, but the sword stuck in the wall meant only one thing - the fight had begun. And this time he was prepared to fight.

Without even rising from his chair he partially slipped the Ion Gun from its secret pocket inside his jacket and aimed roughly for the rushing image crossing the table. There was no time to uncoil the grounding cord, so there wouldn't be a maximum discharge. He had to hope that whatever the gun could shoot through the air would be sufficient.

The target settled into position behind Scrappy ... slightly to the side ... just enough to allow for a clean shot. It was the woman from upstairs - the one with the sword. A slight fuzzy vagueness to the outline, she was looking more like an early television image than a real person. And Guru didn't know of any human who was less than absolutely solid. Decision made.

Then one finger gave a little squeeze.

Cries of alarm all around. One voice was frantically asking questions. Guru thought he heard his name called out from down the table. Was there a scream? Still, in the midst of tumult he remembered to be an island of calm. He knew the most important thing to do was observe ... but observe what? The woman had completely disappeared!

On the other hand, Scrappy was very much solid flesh and blood. And on the floor where she sat she obviously needed flesh and blood help. Something had paid her an emotionally wrenching visit. Earlier she seemed to be in a trance while holding that black pot, but the experience hadn't left her shaking and sobbing like a beaten child.

Maybe she had seen the face of the enemy. Maybe she just learned the answer to the most important question. But it would all have to wait until she calmed down. The enemy was something inhuman, so to Guru's mind badgering her and otherwise acting inhuman to each other felt ... dirty.

All attention went to Scrappy. And not just for the fact of being someone with a gun screaming and crying. She seemed to be the only casualty in this conflict. Guru slowly edged around the table taking soft, measured steps. He wanted to radiate an aura of calm and gentleness. That should bring Scrappy back into the fold.

"Scrappy, it's okay. You're safe now. You're with us."

No sign of recognition.

Soft, measured steps.

"Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

No improvement. Maybe try a little positive reinforcement.

"Be strong. This wasn't for nothing."

Through her tears Scrappy saw one giant monster eyebrow spanning the entire width of a human face. So demonic. Demonic?!

"NOOO!!" she screamed as her hands flew up in defense.

Then one finger gave a little squeeze.

---------------------------------------------

Re: The House Of Whoosher... ;-)
Post by guru on Nov 23, 2004, 10:41am

Her name was Yana. She was born and raised in a little Siberian town called Nefteyugansk. Life there consisted of either working for the big oil company or drinking heavily ... or both. In winter they would fight the cold, in summer they would fight mosquitoes. In school Yana would fight the bullies.

Yana had a grandmother who told stories of far-away places and long-forgotten times. And of fantastic people. Two stories especially fired the little girl's imagination. A race of brave and noble warrior women, the Amazons fought for honor and survival. They took no dirt from anyone.

And the Immortals. Who could possibly believe such nonsense? People living forever -- healing after every wound -- dying and coming back to life -- and still fighting with swords in these modern times. A romantic notion to set a schoolgirl's heart fluttering, nothing more. Certainly someone as practical as Yana could never actually believe an immortal existed.

Until she met one.

*******

They remained frozen. No one knew what to do -- it was all too much. The shock at being in the presence of a shooting gradually gave way to the realization that the "victim" began healing before their very eyes.

Barely enough blood trickled from the wound to drip onto the floor. Guru held his shirt open so he could see the damage. Through a haze of still-burning pain he focused on his shoulder and saw what he expected to see. Healing. Just like the other times he had been shot ... or stabbed ... or whipped ... or dragged behind a horse ...

If the other houseguests were standing any closer, they too would have seen the faint blue glow and wispy electric-white tendrils in the rapidly narrowing aperture. Three more minutes and the puncture would be sealed; ten more minutes and there would be no trace of damage at all.

He wondered if he should excuse himself to change his shirt before continuing the conversation. 'It just doesn't do for a gentleman to wear bulletholes in the presence of ladies. Well, ladies and that one...' At the moment, his thoughts of Scrappy were less than charitable. But he knew he'd probably get over it. 'Something happened to her, and she wasn't herself. Who knows what was in her mind's eye when she pulled the trigger? Who knows what the others are thinking? Better do something.'

"No, no, don't bother running to my rescue -- I'll be fine." The sarcasm was lost on the group. And Scrappy was still consumed with her pain. A change of scenery was in order.

"This makes two of us on the floor. I call that a party! Maybe we should adjourn for now and get some rest?" Guru never liked being injured, but he liked even less having a bunch of gawking onlookers while his body mended.

Guru rolled himself over and up, making sure to avoid putting pressure on his sore shoulder. Scrappy was being assisted as he made his way around the table and toward the door. Once again his thoughts turned to the fellowship that would be needed for these people to survive.

"I'll be back. Just gonna freshen up a little." A quick glance at the bullethole in his shirt. He didn't want to throw this shirt away. It was a gift ... in fact the last gift he ever received ... from her. His tragically departed wife.

Yana.

---------------------------------------------

A Blast to the Past

Post by phalon on Nov 23, 2004, 8:53pm

Icy tendrils of blackness encircled her body, tightening around her until she was enveloped in it. Total darkness. She felt suffocated by it; gasping for breath. She tried to remind herself that she was already dead, and it did not matter – that none of it mattered; the sickening acrid scent of burnt flesh, muscles that were paralyzed, incessant buzzing in her ears, and the feeling of an infinite number of tiny needles penetrating every part of her. How could she feel so much pain if she were dead? She opened her mouth to scream, but her charred throat would not release the sound. The buzz in her ears grew to a roar; louder and louder…deafening.

And when she was sure that she could not endure this any longer, it ended.

Silence.

There was nothing. The noise, the smells – the pain…it all ceased to exist. Warily, she opened her eyes, and found she was at a threshold.

Behind her lay the blackness – the suffering, and along with it; that demented tormenter, those people, and that horrid house…and the emptiness she felt when she was inside it.

In front of her stood a meadow bathed golden in sunlight. The waves of grasses and wild flowers; tansy, orphine, marjoram and rue, swayed in a slight summer’s breeze. They danced in unison; the entire meadow of flowers, the dance only broken by a tree growing up from the center of the field. Its trunk was gnarled with age and its twisted branches seemed to beckon her to come, and rest beneath their shade.

She knew this place…. This was home.



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Whoosh-ChelSierra-Muse - Twi-Saga
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