When Jules Verne wrote the legendary story about the Mysterious Island, many said that he actually was talking about Madeira Island. Are these photos the living proof that Madeira is Jules Verne’s ‘Mysterious Island’ ? I believe in that. Take a look and see yourself !

One of my all-time favorite Ray Harryhausen creatures is the giant Ammonite that terrorizes the castaways in the Harryhausen-Schneer adaptation (1961) of Jules Verne’s novel The Mysterious Island (1874). Ammonites are an extinct group of marine cephalopods that died out in the Cretaceous Period, approximately 65.5 million years ago. They are named after the Egyptian god Ammon, who was usually depicted with a head-dress of ram’s horns

This is a cold cast resin sculpture of the Ammonite.  I shot these pics with a Nikon D7000, 60mm macro lens, and touched up the images in Aperture 3 and DxO to look like film.  I tried to simulate a marine environment by removing red from the image below.  I like it!  What do you think?

Jules Verne’s, Mysterious Island, 2001 translation by Jordan Stump.

I hadn’t read a Jules Verne story in decades and I was captivated once again. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea is one of my all-time favorites.

Some have said this story was only Verne describing how one might survive as a castaway with then state of the art engineering and science knowledge. I found it more than that and couldn’t wait for Prince Dakkar, Captain Nemo, to make his final appearance.

The idea of finding yourself in a paradise that has nearly everything, with a few strong friends, and thorough a knowledge of current technology is well developed here. It is a picture of independence and freedom. It contrasts to the same idea developed with Nemo in one sense, in that Nemo has taken technology to new levels, electric bullets and the Nautilus for example. These are timeless themes.

For this story to work for me, I have to admit that I had to allow Verne the freedom to go where he chose and not question the circumstances no matter how unlikely. I enjoyed watching his ideas unfold.

Jordan Stump’s translation is on the mark and hopefully we’ll see more like this from him in the future.

Icanhazcheezburger is not longer that funny, or appealing, or cute. Chocolate is not edible anymoar. I forgets about the concerts I should be attending (Chris Rea, tickets bought 2 months ago!!). Not even serial milk is attractive (though I haz 6 types of cereal now!).

And books………….. let’s see. Due to several days off work, I’ve been wandering in the books. Some P.K. Dick (ok, man was a genius with ideas, I can understand why Aron Biro considers him one of the Top 10 SF writers, but every main character of his books is essentially the same…), Jules Verne (old new collection from Adevarul), Zadie Smith and her less-than-expected interesting “White teeth” (soon to come: comparison/review of Gargoyle and White teeth, both being first novel of their writers), some Anne Tyler.

Yet last year’s Neil Gaiman’s “American Gods” is still the most interesting book read lately. Somehow I’ve become very picky, I fail to resonate with the story and most characters seem dull. Let’s take JV, one of my childhood idols.

I was 14 and I thought Mysterious Island, 20,000 miles under the sea and another Jules Verne book were a-w-e-s-o-m-e. Now I find them interesting for kids (let them expand their horizons and look up for weird fish names). Characters are plain uni-dimensional:  intelligent, curious fellows, good-humoured, civilitators  wherever they get (i just made that word up). They don’t care if they destroy the ecosystem of an island or of the sea, they just want to hunt tigers or whales or whatever they feel like threatening (or brings them good money). Captain Nemo is the only deeper, bi-dimensional individual, with some moral dilemmas and a bit more gray than the rest.

And let’s go to the story. A lot of important technological stuff is done based on one reaction (which I knew was irreversible):

HCl+NaOH->NaCl+H2O.

Is there really any possibility to cheaply transform sea salt (NaCl) into Na+Cl (or similar substances)? This chemical reaction helps the survivors on Mysterious Island do a lot of almost impossible things (obtaining electricity, in the end). It makes Nautilus able to go almost forever through the oceans. A very simple and impossible chemical reaction when you’re on an island or on a submarine, I’d say. But hey, I guess that’s why Jules Verne is among the first SFF writers. I have to admit some of his theories on future are incredibly exact (electricity used everywhere, cars, telecom), although his theory on how the Earth shall die (due to getting colder) have yet to be demonstrated.

Nest: Philip K. Dick… great thinker, dude (see older post here). A lot of imagination, especially in the novelettes. Main character: same male having some problems with money, job, boss, women, solving a big problem that threatens his life/humanity and ending having problems with himself, too. It’s good the action is different almost everytime The female characters are either blonde (usually tall), don’t-trust-her-even-if-she’s-your-wife, either brunette (usually small), i-know-she’s-mean-but-she’s-so-cute, either the typical between-2-ages-unattractive-annoying-over weight secretary. Yet somehow they are more distinct from one book to another than the male. I guess K. Dick somehow impersonated someone (or himself?) in that main male, so there’s a common, familiar character in most places. Which is ok, as long as you don’t read 2 novels in 2 days.

Ann Tyler. A sensitive writer, an eager, never-judging observant (a Scorpio that doesn’t judge!!!), loooking with delicate eyeglasses at people’s everyday actions and at a whole bunch of lives, actions, intimacies. She gives me the impression of an old and comfy couch, willing to receive anyone there, be it for watching stupid opera or for some Hitchcock thriller. Or for a sex escapade between a man and some 15-20 years younger female. Or for a usual,monotoneous fight between 2 people that once thought they loved each other (and got married relentless of their annoying habits),who know the fights are in vain and don’t even wanna fight, but they’re in a play and their role is to fight – to show others (and especially to themselves) that things are still going on (we fight, we’re alive!). Sad and cruel, like life itself, but Ann Tyler doesn’t say that, she just records the patterns (my, such a good eye she has for that!), and patterns explain themselves the mechanism of human cowardness, desire to be saved by someone, love in the eye of the far-away beholder, the tiny things that get to drive us mad, kids and how they make you feel so much older and somewhat younger at the same time. Yes, a writer of the people, for the people, certainly appealing to the masses, yet less successful than expected, because most people can’t handle their image so properly un-difused, un-diformed in a book written by someone they’ll never know. My favourite: “The ocasional tourist” (aren’t we all a bit of tourist in our own lives? the only place we truly inhabit is our own self – and P.K. Dick would add “not even that”). Time review here.

Interesting how different writers get to similar essences… I think a good condition for good writing is knowing people, understanding their ticking (Ann Tyler, Zadie). Writers less gifted for that compensate by exceptional ideas (K. Dick, Jules Verne).  There are writers that use words as colours for a painting  (John Banville) or play with them to create metaphors and new poems (like Jeanette Winterson and Milorad Pavic). Other writers don’t have that, but they create new worlds by combining older stuff.

Like Gaiman (another Scorpio to my liking ). Gaiman was a God of invention when he thought the saga of American Gods (don’t read any plot summary with names, just read the book!). Basically, the story of immigrants that brought their faith and belief in the brave new world, but soon fogotten their gods (War/Fertility/Earth gods), as new ones emerged – the Media, the Credit Card, the Internet. The old gods, left without worshipers and offerings, are struggling to survive in human form, with miserable jobs and miserable living. New gods are chasing them to eradicate them and modernise people. And people, for whose souls and devoutment this battle is given, are completely careless and un-aware. Is there still place for soul in this mercantile country, where your wife cheats on you with your best friend, where kids don’t listen to their parents, where something is sacre as it has more money value? Each group of gods has their own motivation for struggling on with the people, people that create gods as impersonation of their fears and desires, people that feed gods with their feelings and actions, people that don’t have any god. As interesting as it seems, I don’t remember Jesus Christ appearing too much (or at all!) in the book. But Indian, Scandinavian, African gods are there. JC coul’ve been the host when all these deities came, but he probably got lost somewhere. Or he’s just too busy airing South Park’s TV show. (i’ll definitely burn in hell now… with my minions, Alien and Predator)

***

Alternating between short moments of depression and long moments of annoyance (I cannot be depressed when I’m pissed off).

But life’s good. It would’ve have been even better with some Haagen-Dazs around. Oh, America…

Anyway, the first 40 pages of the book are a series of bland narratives around conversations about the proposed trip in a balloon across Africa. And a lot of the conversations are completely incoherent. Maybe it’s lost in translation:

“You see, my friends, when a man has had a taste of that kind of travelling (old spelling), he can’t get along afterward with any other; so, on our next expedition, instead of going off to one side, we’ll go right ahead, going up, too, all the time.”

All of Verne’s protagonists are the same: a highly respected and knowledgeable man with a crazy idea who convinces some people to along on a wild journey. So the first 40 pages are basically him saying “Yes, this will be awesome!” and them saying “No, it can’t be done!” over and over, while Verne lists the technical specifications of the balloon in greeeeeaaaat detail. And I love his scientific musings, but they’re usually diluted with a bit more… Well, story.

On an unrelated note, Verne’s translator consistently used the verb “ejaculated” for interjections. I dunno if it’s the same verb in French, or if it just didn’t mean the same thing back then–and I do know there’s a double meaning, but still. I can’t help cracking up every time he says it:

Talking about Jupiter:

“…and the years last twelve of ours…”

“Twelve years!” ejaculated the boy.

Snicker snicker snicker.

Why are they talking about Jupiter, you ask? Good question. That was on page 38. Modern writers are always told to start in the moment of story, and while Verne does a bit of dicking around in all his beginnings, none that I’ve read has started this slowly.

So I’m now on chapter 12, and they’ve just gotten into the balloon. Hopefully now it will, er, pick up.

The Mysterious Island é um dos meus filmes favoritos com efeitos visuais de Ray Harryhausen. Esta adaptação de um livro de Júlio Verne tem um bocado de tudo, incluindo uma gaja de mini-saia no século XIX. A história para quem não conhece gira em torno da fuga de um grupo de prisioneiros da União, durante a guerra civil americana, de um campo de prisioneiros em Richmond, Virginia. A espetacular fuga da prisão, é conseguida com o roubo de um balão que os soldados da Confederação usavam para observação. Graças a uma tempestade enorme, o balão é levado para Oeste através dos Estados Unidos até aterrar perto de uma ilha perdida no Oceano Pacífico. Esta ilha vai estar recheada de surpresas animadas por Harryhausen, que juntamente com uma dinâmica de Lost vs The Others consegue criar um clássico filme de aventuras, que nos cola ao ecrã até ao último minuto. Realizado por Cy Endfeld, com Michael Gray, Michael Callan, Gary Merrill, Dan Jackson, Percy Herbert, Joan Greenwood, Beth Rogan e Herbert Lom.

Típico rodeo à moda dos Boxinos, com uma galinha amestrada. Segue-se o encerramento das festas com o espetacular fogo preso de Páscoa e Cia Lda.

Jason and the Argonauts (1963) is a Columbia Pictures fantasy feature film starring Todd Armstrong as the titular mythical Greek hero in a story about his quest for the Golden Fleece. Directed by Don Chaffey in collaboration with stop motion animation expert Ray Harryhausen, the film is noted for its stop-motion monsters. In particular, the sequence in which seven skeletons rise from the earth and attack Jason and his comrades is still widely considered to be among the greatest achievements of motion picture special effects.

Only $22.76!

The score was composed by Bernard Herrmann, who also worked on other fantasy films with Harryhausen, such as Mysterious Island and The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.

Ray Harryhausen

Tagline: Greatest Odyssey Of The Ages – for the first time on the screen

In April 2004, Empire magazine ranked Talos as the second best movie monster of all time, after King Kong.

Talos

Ray Harryhausen regards this as his best film.  Previous Harryhausen films had been generally shown as part of double features in “B” theatres. Columbia was able to book this film as a single feature in many “A” theatres in the United States. The skeletons’ shields are adorned with designs of other Harryhausen creatures, including an octopus and the head of the Ymir from 20 Million Miles to Earth.

Visual Effects Department
  Ray Harryhausen … special visual effects creator
  Arthur Hayward … sculptor: model (uncredited)

Ray Harryhausen

Perhaps these are aimed too young, but they’re delightful reads…

Winnie The Pooh
The House At Pooh Corner
When We Were Very Young
Now We Are Six
Old Possums Practical Cats
Paddington
The Marvelous Inventions of Alvin Fernald
Alvins’ Secret Code
Emil and the Detectives
Rabbit Hill, The Long Winter - Robert Lawson
Stuart Little, Charlotte’s Web, The Trumpet of the Swan.

Age Appropriate & enjoyed by all of us:
“Bone” graphic novel(s) Really, really, great art, characters, story, plot, you name it. Beautiful.

All Creatures Great and Small, etc, etc. “James Herriot”.
Really good story telling, and yes, though based on real people, this is fiction. Some drinking, smoking, a fair number of complicated deliveries for sheep and some other farm animals.
Based on the writer’s experience but a work of fiction. In the real world, “Helen” wasn’t the woman he married, for starters… All Creatures and the second book were re-read requests, I think we read the pair more than 3 times all the way through…

My Family and Other Animals, Birds, Beasts and Relatives – Gerald Durrell.

British expatriots in Corfu during the 1930s. No clue where theirmoney comes from or what happened tothe father- Gerald (Gerry) is a pre-teen and already a naturalist in training and the youngest of the 4 children. Oldest brother Lawrence is already becoming A Famous Writer, middle sister and brother are teenagers, nowhere near as interesting as the animals Gerrald collects or the locals he meets. “My Family and Other Animals” is my favorite, and we re-read it at least 2-3 times.

A Zoo In My Luggage – Gerald Durrell.

Durrell’s other books are accounts of his collecting expeditions to find animals for other people’s and finally his own zoo. He has great stories, and started the first zoo-as-refuge-for-endangered-species around 1960, on one of the
Channel Islands.

The Cockcoo’s Egg - Cliff Stoll.

True story of a Berkeley grad student who discovers someone breaking into the computers he’s supervising, ends up discovering a German who is hacking university and government computers for the KGB. Includes a goode chocolate chip cookie recipe

The Periodic Table – Primo Levi -

Levi trained as a chemist, growing up in Italy in the 1930s.When the war starts he ends up in the Reisistance, is captured and shipped off to Auchwitz. He survives (working in the I. G. Farbin facility) and returns to Italy after the war. He becomes a paint and varnish chemist. Each story/chapter uses an element as the anchor for an episode, telling his life story from youth to age. Two stories are fictional the one about lead and the one about carbon. He wrote them in a feverish burst along with his acclaimed “Survival In Auchwitz” in 1946. Its wonderful in translation, it must be even more fun in the original Italian.

The Survival of the Bark Canoe – John McPhee.

Profile of Henri Vallencourt, a young man who mastered Native American canoe building technology and built them to order in the 1970s. No pencils, no saws, just a hatchet and a “crooked knife”, bought from the Hudson’s Bay Company. They’re easier to use and maintain than the sharpend beaver tooth they replaced, which is why HBC still sells them. Second half of the book is a canoe trip consisting of McPhee, the canoe maker, and some friends, through the Maine woods that Henry Thourou traveled and wrote about 150 years ago. One half-page reference to Deliverance and jokes about banjo-playing rapists mean it can’t be “G” but “PG” is very fair.

The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings trilogy. You know these.

The Harry Potter books. You know these too.

The Complete Sherlock Holmes – Sir Aurthur Conan Doyle

All 1100 pages. out loud, twice. If you haven’t had the pleasure, I recomend it. Smoking, light drinking, cocaine use by Holmes when he’s bored. (Watson portrays this unsympatheticly…)

The Fallen Man – Tony Hillerman.

Set on the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico, Hillerman’s mysteries are solved by members of the Navajo Tribal Police. They’re deeply rooted in place and time, and the Navajo and dominant cultures. In this story, a skeleton discovered over 1000 feet up a pinacle which is both popular with climbers and a Navajo sacred place. It may be a rancher who disappeared on his honeymoon years before…

The Maltese Falcon – Dashiel Hammett.

A woman with a complex story visits the small detective agency of Sam Spade and Miles Archer. Archer agrees to watch over her case personally. He is found, shot dead, in the middle of that night, and Sam Spade has to figure out who killed him, and why, and do something about it. One character in a criminal association is gay, and Spade refers to him as a “fairy” in one scene. There are suggestions that another male member of the gang may be his lover, which are not treated as positive. Relatioinships outside of marriage, past and present are key parts of the plot. Archer’s is not the only death. None the less, this is Hammett’s finest and a terrific book about being an adult.

Animal, Vegitable, Miracle – Barbara Kingsolver.

A year of eating locally, and in low-impact, means raising their own food animals and growing crops, as well as preserving by canning and freezing, and seeking meals away from home which are also of locally produced food. Naturally, seasonal foods become staples, and much thought is given to what comes from far away and how commercial, agribusiness farming works, as opposed to small, organic,efforts. Many recipes, the majority of the text is by Kingsolver but her husband and one daughter contribute as well. A really delightful book. A more positive take on the same subject as “The Omnivore’s Dilemma“

Hoot, Flush,

These are really terrific kids books- kid centered points of view, serious conflict without it becoming overwhelming, justice triumphs more or less. Unsympathetic characters get a comeuppance and wits and dairing are shown to match brute force and come out ahead. Very likable protagonists, not the same in each book. I was sorry when each ended. Also see “Scat“, about Florida panthers.

Fate Is The Hunter – Ernest K. Gann

Memior of an airline pilot, from the wild days of the 1920s through the Depression, the war and the post-war boom. Superb, humble and honest adventure stories where nobody succeeds without help and kindness from others. Much dry wit, and a steady roll of the names of friends, co-workers and legends who died when fate finally had their number. I read this in 6th grade and loved it. We read it with Benjamin a couple of years ago and he loved it too. Superb writing. When he tired of the airline business, Gann went to medical school and became a doctor- quite a guy.

The Silent World – Jacques Y. Cousteau

From the invention of the Aqualung, in occupied France, through setting up Calypso for expeditions and setting out to make a life with science and diving. Cousteau wrote all his books in English directly, for the world market I suppose.

The Living Sea, World Without Sun, Jacques Y. Cousteau

Further adventures, exploration and science in the 1950s and early 1960s. I remember reading about most of this in The National Geographic some in the latest issues, some in back issues…

Incredible Victory – Walter Lord

The battle of Midway, as told by hundreds of survivors to Mr. Lord, 20 years later. He manages to tell the central parts of the story using quotes from people who were there, on both sides, the very best kind of history. In mid-1942 the Japanese Navy sets out to destroy the remaining US Pacific fleet. By capturing Midway, only 1200 miles from Oahu, they expect to provoke the US fleet into a final battle and defeat them. They don’t know the US Navy is reading their radio codes. In a single day, and amid enormous cost in American lives from Midway and afloat, dive bombers from two US carriers sink all 4 Japanese carriers, though the Japanese manage to sink one American carrier and an accompanying destroyer. This is the beginning of the why Admiral Nimitz got a freeway named after him… This and “A Night To Remember” are Lord’s most famous books, It helps that the good guys win, but the waste and savagery of war are not glossed over.

A Brief History of Time – Stephen Hawking

This is such a great book- it starts with a good cosmological joke, and contains only one equation. Its both a story of what is and how we know it, and what we don’t know yet. We saw Hawking on his last visit to the Bay Area and he’s inspiring. Robert Heinlein once wrote that any scientist who can’t explain what they’re doing, to a child, in 10 minutes, is a fraud. Hawking is not a fraud.

Benjamin read a number of Charlie Bone books to himself, and we read one as bedtime reading. Not my first choice, but he liked them a lot. He’s also current in the Maximum Ride and Levin Thumps series’, and looking forward to the next one in each case.

More fiction:

Holes
Around the World In 80 Days, Jules Verne
A Wrinkle In Time – L’Engle (?)
Jonathan Livingston Seagull – Bach
Summerland
Owls In The Family – F. Mowat

More natural history:

A Fish Caught In Time -
Waiting For Aphrodite – Sue Hubbell
The Ancient Engineers – L. Sprague de Camp
Wonderful Life - Stephen J Gould
Life (the first 4 billion years) – Richard Fortey
Trilobite Eyewitness to Evolution – Richard Fortey
The Decypherment of Linear “B” -
The Periodic Kingdom -
Giant Squid – Ellis
Platypus

The Wisdom of Bones – Walker & Shipman – Benjamin loved this and after this we read The Hominid Gang, by Delta Willis, which he liked even more. Willis has a different view of some of the same people and places that are the foundation for Walker and Shipman’s book. Willis was writing while the Nariokatome aka Turkana Boy, the oldest and so-far best preserved Homo Erectus, was being un-earthed and pieced together.

Books we read pieces of but stopped before the end or didn’t want to read all the way through start to finish:

Little Women - Louisa May Allcott – stopped before Amy died.

Read some, then stopped:
Little House In The Woods
Little House On the Praire
Anne of Green Gables
The Yearling

Read here and there, but not the whole thing. Enjoyed in small pieces. Favorites of mine :^)
Rising from the Plain – John McPhee
Assembling California – John McPhee
Looking for a Ship – John McPhee
Taking Wing – Pat Shipman and
Synapsida – McLaughlin
The Man Who Walked Through Time – Colin Fletcher
Carrying The Fire – Michael Collins

In theory good ideas but not yet actually read by/to Benjamin, yet:

Broadsides From The Other Orders – Sue Hubbell
A Country Year – Sue Hubbell
Life on the Missippi, Mark Twain

A Distant Mirror – Werthimer
Tom Sawyer – Mark Twain
Huckleberry Finn – Mark Twain
Endurance – Lansing (a powerfully written account of Shackleton’s last Antarctic expedition.)
House of Seven Gables -
The Red Badge Of Courage – S. Crane

I, Juan De. Pareja -

Historical fiction, story of a Moor who is enslaved and owned by the painter Velasquez… De Pareja eventually becomes a paint himself and provokes controversy by painting a black Jesus and Mary Mother and Child picture.

Pride and Prejudice – J. Austin
Sense and Sensability – J. Austin
Emma – J. Austin
Persuasion – J. Austin
Northanger Abbey – J. Austin
Is Paris Burning? -
Beyond the 100th Meridian – W. Stiegner
Wuthering Hieghts -
Last and First Men, Starmaker – Olaf Stapleton
A House In Space – Henry F. S. Cooper
(More) Tony Hillerman…
Diary of a Young Girl – Ann Frank

Machu Pichu, The lost city, is one of mysterius places in the world. Look at the picture, and find out a little part of all Machu pichu mysteries !

Another side of machu pichu …

the Pixie and Strongman’s Big Finish

Conseil’s Tale

You stoop to pick it up, and read:

Caledon Library Book of the Month Discussion for October Two Thousand and Seven

Sunday, October the Twenty-First, 2:00 – 3:45pm SLTtime
Whitehorn Library, Caledon VictoriaCity

The Caledon Library’s Book of the Month for October is “Islands of Mystery”. This book comprises two works, the novel _The Secret of the Island_, by Jules Verne & the blog adventure _Journey to 20,000 Leagues Beneath the Mysterious Island_, by The Journeyers of Caledon.

_The Secret of the Island_ is the third novel of The Mysterious Island trilogy, Verne’s sequel to _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_. Castaways on an island in the South Pacific at the time of the American Civil War establish a colony, and undergo a thrilling, and closely described, series of privations and adventures. But a mysterious hand seems to be intervening in their fate….

In the collaborative adventure _Journey to 20,000 Leagues Beneath the Mysterious Island_, The Journeyers of Caledon chronicle a remarkable tale as it unfolds. A Mysterious Island arises off the coast of Caledon, a volcano the locals nickname “Phillip”. As the volcanic activity and earthquakes threaten Caledon, an expedition is assembled by the Royal Society of Natural Sciences. The expedition consists of an unlikely mixture of scientists, adventurers, curious nobles, a stowaway neko, a winsome witch, and a dastardly noble set on taking the treasure of the island for his own. On their Heroic Mission, the journeyers encounter all manner of curious beings, giant killer bunnies, amorous penguins, insane tribesman wearing jetpacks made of battered discarded industrial parts and bamboo….and each other!

The Mysterious Island, by Jules Verne

The Secret of the Island, by Jules Verne

http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/21489

http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/v/verne/jules/v52mi/chapter43.html

Journey to 20,000 Leagues Beneath the Mysterious Island, by The Journeyers of Caledon

Mister Gnarlihotep Abel: From the Bowels

Miss Fuschia & Professor Avalanche: the Descent

Lady Eva: the Chow Chow Club

Miss Fuschia & Professor Avalanche: Fight Club

Miss Terry: Having Landed

Well I thought this was funny! but the cannibals did not. It would seem that a predelection for the taste of human flesh (and I do mean the inside, not the outside) does not include a gourmet’s desire for experimentation. They were completely uninterested in hearing about sashimi or Darkling tartare.

At least we got a good hot mineral soak out of it. My knotted shoulder muscles were almost loosened to a state of warm bliss by the time Kiralette flounced out of the jungle and saved us all. My plea of “just five more minutes!” was lost in the crashing sound of upended cookpots and doused flames. Ah well… Good kitty! I am growing her a catnip tree if ever we get out of this. I gave her a healing salve for her hands, (I shall have to watch them to make sure they heal properly), then she and Gnarli trotted off to coo at each other under a tree.

Miss Terry and Lord Zealot looked like wet, sullen cats. The Duchesses were exclaiming at the tastiness of the vegetables that had been stewed with them in their cook pot.

Old man Oolon actually looked less wrinkly when he came out of the hot cook pot than when he went in. I’d encourage you to imagine that but truly, I’m not that cruel; I wish I hadn’t seen that. … Oh. Ah. I suppose I’ve gone and made you imagine it after all. So sorry, really… here, instead have a good long look at this photograph of a pretty flower, you’ll feel better.

Back on the island, we stood around staring at each other, we intrepid explorers; wet and dressed in our undertings, ash-flecked and scratched and burned and slightly pink. I grinned at the dismayed faces around me. They stared back, disturbed at the giddy light in my eyes.

“Is anyone else havin a bloody fun time too? Because I am havin so much fun I could scream! Wooooh, how long has it been since any of us had sooch a rippin good adventure?!” I did a crazy-happy little dance, the wet ribbons dangling limply from my corset. They just stared at me, as if awaiting the punchline. “Did anyone happen to see what they did with our clothing?”

Eventually, we found our various sand- and ash-smudged clothing pieces tossed into a bin marked “donations”. Well, we did find most of them, but being short several pieces, were forced to share what was left in the interest of decency and warmth.

Hah! I lie, actually. I had my small beaded bag, and within it, nearly everything I owned, including my entire wardrobe. (It’s bigger on the inside than the outside. It’s magik.) So I suppose I could have found enough to cover everyone properly, but it was so heartwarming watching everyone share and look after each other, we priviledged of Caledon down on our luck like hobos, I just couldn’t ruin the moment.

So I ended up dressed for adventure like so:

The Pixie and the Strongman laughed very, very hard at us when they crashed down out of the sky in their airship, balloon, tingy. Miss Fuschia the pixie told us she would design a new clothing line after our style and call it Grab Bag. Professor Alphonso, her steadfast strongman, mostly just tried not to look too closely at Lady Amber, who had “valiantly” declined all but the most necessary of coverings.

Stop looking at me like that! I am not suffering a tea hallucination! A pixie and a strongman really did come down out of the sky on a balloon. Oh, where is that photographe… It’s probably at the bottom of my bag, all torn and scuffed and bloodied and scorched, considering all the wild things that happened next…

the Pixie and the Strongman: the Poison Belt

BardHaven’s Story Part Four

Lady Gabrielle: Does Not Wear Apricot

Lady Eva: Cream of Duchess Soup??

Gnarli Remains Chased

Amber’s Part the Fourth: Chapter One

Miss Kiralette: Cat Out of the Bag… and Into a Stew Pot?

Mister G. Abel: Into the Jaws of Adventure (MIND the nose!)

Lady Eva: A Journey of Titanic Proportions

BardHaven’s Story: Part 3, in which the Expedition Accosts Phillip (with a Crash)

Lady Amber: Sea Voyage and Arrival at Phillip

Miss Kiralette: I’m Free!

Oolon: Brief Paws

Lady Eva HRONKs in Passion!

“the Executives” – Summer Pilots

Mister G. Abel runs from the Fossil-Hare!

Oolon: All Our Base

Miss Terry: Arrival

“Good birdie!” I crooned at the little thing. It fluttered its’ wings happily, accidentally flicking a speck of ash into my eye. “Is there any other news from Tanglewood?” It tilted it’s wee head at me, looking at me confusedly with one black beady eye. “Has the ash reached western Caledon yet? Can the earthquakes be felt that far?” The wee bluebird tweeted sweetly, clearly not understanding, then hopped around the barrel, pecking at it once, experimentally.

One bright green eye showed in one of the holes in the barrel then, and the neko-girl attached to it whispered, her voice slightly muffled by the wood, “Who are you talking to, Darkling?”

“Delivery bird, lass. Look!” I waved the letter from the Honourable Kate Nicholas where Kiralette could see it. “I’ve been invited. No apple barrel hiding for me.”

“Good. ‘Cuz there’s no more room in here.” She sounded annoyed that I had the invitation she craved, so I stuffed it away into my small beaded bag.

I looked back at the bluebird, which was looking at me expectantly. “Would yeh like a nice fat hempseed?” I tried several different languages, including the one avian tongue I knew, but still it did not understand me. Stupid little thing. “Kira, are yeh hoongry?”

“Well I’ve got apples, but… yeah, I am. Why?” Her bright green eye blinked expectantly from the shadows inside the barrel. “I don’t want a Phillip-burger, though!”

I grinned slowly at the little bird, my eyes sparkling wickedly. It fell back half a step, finally catching some sense of my meaning, this time without words. Before it could fly away, I scooped it up in my hand, then shoved it through one of the holes in the apple barrel in a flutter of blue feathers.

“Here, kitten. Protein.”

There was a little flurry of sound from inside the barrel as Kiralette caught the birdie, then her tail snaked out through one of the lower holes, flicking excitedly. I stuffed it back inside. There was then the little sound of crunching. “Mmmmf! Thanks, Darkling!” And then she spit the beak and talons out onto the deck, which I tucked into my small beaded bag. There’s probably a spell somewhere that would call for “pokey bits from a non-sapient bird”.

“Anytime, lass. I’ll make sure yeh get what yeh need in the crossing… we can let yeh out when yeh want, but probably best to wait ’til we arrive and they’ve little choice but to bring yeh along. And when the Baron’s hopefully distracted with soomting nefarious. And unarmed. And… can we wait ’til he’s out of shouting and weapons range too?”

Then two jolly seamen sauntered up to the collection of barrels and crates, clearly intent upon hefting them up and into the ship. I drew myself up proudly, and despite the ash-tangled hair and wanton’s dress, cut quite the picture of the noblewoman. Part of being an aristocrat is knowing that, with all these lands and monies and social station, one can do whatever one pleases, provided one do so with confidence. I sniffed haughtily… then sneezed as the ash tickled my nose.

“These barrels are full of ~achoo!~ important, delicate equipment… see to it they are handled carefully and stacked properly. Over here… by the rail… no, not like that, like this– follow me, I will show you.” And I flounced up the deck. They did as they were told, good lads, though seemed a bit annoyed that I would think they didn’t know how to handle themselves. Eventually they got it right. Kiralette huddled down inside the barrel, prudently not watching, for fear they would notice her.

Seemingly speaking to them, my words were intended for Kiralette. “I must change out of this dirty little dress. I’ll check up on yeh later!” And I clutched my small beaded purse, then flounced below deck to my stateroom.

Later, after trying several other choices, I had finally selected a wicked-sharp outfit that seemed perfect for adventuring: it was shadowy and black, consisting of a pair of well-fitted trousers (skirts and bustles are SO hard to run or swim in), belted with a stout leather belt (actually a good whip with a buckle), a billowy, floor-length coat (which might double as a blanket or sail or parachute), a light shirt with a matching silk jabon (strong silk scarves can come in handy in a variety of situations), and a pair of steel-toed, delicately-spiked black leather boots (my eebil shite-kickers, I call ‘em). Strapping my Ordinal Stiletto to the belt, I felt like I could out-stab any cutthroat, out-smart any beast or primitive, out-cackle any evil mastermind. I was ready.

I strode confidently out onto the deck like I owned it, the ash-strewn air whipping through my indigo tresses… and saw the Baron. Wearing the same outfit. Drat! Well, we do shop at the same place.

I turned to go back to go change again before anyone had noticed the faux pas. But before I did, I spared a moment to study the Baron. His eyes were covered as usual, this time by a pair of red-tinted goggles. The confidence in his stance was unmistakable, but also typical of the man. Probably he would look confident hip-deep in screaming, slavering demons, or even saccharine wide-eyed Tinies. As he watched the supplies being loaded and stowed, the volcano flared again, casting the scene in a flickering flash of reddish light. He smiled then at Phillip, a wicked, secret little smile, and I could see his eyes behind the red glass, dancing over the sight of the flames. Ah… there it is. Avarice and mischief. There was something there he wanted, or else he would have remained behind, in safety, and sent a more expendable party. Hopefully what he wanted there was more than simply flinging a few of the expedition members (surely not me) into the lava.

Phillip growled and rumbled again, and even aboard the ship, we felt the great rocking, the water churning. Lord Zealot, Baron BardHaven, then turned his eyes to his manor in Caledon Mayfair, the House of Three Graces, where surely his wife Lady Kirawill was even now, perhaps humming a morbid little tune to herself as she nested, converting the dungeon into a volcano shelter. His brows knitted, almost imperceptively, in concern. So. He was certainly up to something, may well even have caused this great calamity, but he did not have complete control over it. He still worried over the safety of his beloved wife and home.

I took the stairs back down to my stateroom slowly, carefully, musing at how I was both reassured and worried at what I had read in those moments of watching Lord Zealot. It made me anxious to learn that Phillip was not merely his plaything, as I had rather hoped. So there was real danger there, and I felt a fleeting stab of guilt at helping Kiralette to get closer to it.

It was, however, quite good news that there was something within Phillip that the Baron wanted. Anything Zealot wanted would be a lot of wicked fun to a playful fae and shameless witch like me. Could it be treasure? Some strange weapon, a mountain of Linden$, a rare limited edition outfit? A harem of volcanic demi-god/desses, a sexgen bed programmed with every position ever attempted since the dawn of humanity? Compromising photographes or kinetoscope sequences depicting Phillip Linden or Desmond Shang in embarrassingly improbable situations? Or even…

I gasped. Surely not that. Surely no animator would be so foolish as to build such a thing…

Surely not a gesture capable of bringing every single resident on the entire grid to their knees?

The Baron would like that very much, wouldn’t he? Well, so would this former Baroness. I smiled, slow and wicked, much as I had smiled at the wee birdie. Whatever it was… I was sure I could hide it in my small beaded bag.

I returned to my stateroom, shut the door, and lay down on the bed, ignoring its’ whispers, visions of great reward dancing through my head. I remembered the twinned outfits then, realizing I should change into something less Zealot-ish, and reached deep inside my purse. I had just the thing… somewhere… next to my sword.


To be continued! here and within the tales of my Fellow Journeyers. Return soon for the next thrilling chapter, or get speared by hungry natives!