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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Sat Jun 01, 2013 3:44 pm
Good for you GR - time out to relax and chill with family and of course Bella and Leo is essential 
and glad that work with the newbie was fun 
Endeavour has just been on in the UK, I saw trailers for it but didn't get to watch it, maybe it is still on, as I am such a Lewis and Hathaway fan
Let us know what it is like Onesie Man aka P 
Lai
and glad that work with the newbie was fun Endeavour has just been on in the UK, I saw trailers for it but didn't get to watch it, maybe it is still on, as I am such a Lewis and Hathaway fan
Let us know what it is like Onesie Man aka P Lai
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
littlewid Sat Jun 01, 2013 5:35 pm
So much going on in this thread, it whizzes all over the place 
but in a fun way, but keeping up is hard 
the banter between you two is brilliant lots of creative writing going on Mr P it was nice to know you are enjoying the forum so much, that makes me smile too 
littlewid-x-
but in a fun way, but keeping up is hard the banter between you two is brilliant lots of creative writing going on Mr P it was nice to know you are enjoying the forum so much, that makes me smile too littlewid-x-
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Sat Jun 01, 2013 11:38 pm
LW, it would be fair to say that this thread is totally bonkers 
Yep, this forum means heapsy too me, which is why I endeavour to interact on here on a daily basis
Yep, this forum means heapsy too me, which is why I endeavour to interact on here on a daily basis
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:39 pm
READ THE LEOPARD PRINT - PART TWO
“Why has it just been me in the car?” the plush leopard started. “With you I mean. Are you…un-loveable?”
“Never!” I declared emphatically.
“But you are un-dateable?” the leopard probed further.
“I may one day in the future believe that I am un-dateable, but never un-loveable; that was my biggest delusion, to believe that I was. It was totally understandable that such a delusion would lead onto other delusions. But these would make me even more loveable than I already was. And to know that you are loveable is the most important thingy in adult life. As such, I will always be thankful to those who gave an inkling of it, to the one who made me know it, even those who continue to confirm it.”
“But how do you know it? And hang on one second mister; for you told me just the other day that you’ve been single for the best part of eight months now. So what you just said doesn’t really equate.”
“Yes it does. It absolutely does. Because what you’ve just said merely equates to un-dateability. Un-dateability and un-loveability are two completely different thingys.”
“What about un-spellability?” the leopard quipped.
I smiled at this inside, whilst on the outside ignoring it; not revealing anything. “One is far less important than the other.”
“And others can be pretty important.” The leopard seemed to be alluding to something else, but right now I was in a different train of thought. I sat silent.
“Perhaps this is all about the weight of knowing?”
I smiled. “Could be spot on; an added dimension to that phrase. Because it’s kinda heavy. It’s intimidating. But I do know it. Oh yes indeedy. And even if she doesn’t love me now, I know that she does.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Life just isn’t black and white.”
“It’s brown and yellow,” it replied without hesitation. “Like a leopard. Or a giraffe. It’s spotty. An apparent jumble.”
“Or a riddle!” I interrupted.
“One that can be difficult to decode, but it’s possible if one joins the dots.”
“So you have dots rather than spots?”
“See, you’re a riddle expert already. But in reality I can have whatever you want me to have. I can have blots.”
“You can have knots!”
“One would need to have quite a twisted imagination! But yes I suppose so! Boy you are infectious!”
“But what do you believe that you have, oh dear leopardy?”
“I have plots. I tell tails. You can tell a lot from reading someone’s tail.”
“And what can you tell from mine?”
“That you’ve been sitting on much of this for quite a while.”
“Why has it just been me in the car?” the plush leopard started. “With you I mean. Are you…un-loveable?”
“Never!” I declared emphatically.
“But you are un-dateable?” the leopard probed further.
“I may one day in the future believe that I am un-dateable, but never un-loveable; that was my biggest delusion, to believe that I was. It was totally understandable that such a delusion would lead onto other delusions. But these would make me even more loveable than I already was. And to know that you are loveable is the most important thingy in adult life. As such, I will always be thankful to those who gave an inkling of it, to the one who made me know it, even those who continue to confirm it.”
“But how do you know it? And hang on one second mister; for you told me just the other day that you’ve been single for the best part of eight months now. So what you just said doesn’t really equate.”
“Yes it does. It absolutely does. Because what you’ve just said merely equates to un-dateability. Un-dateability and un-loveability are two completely different thingys.”
“What about un-spellability?” the leopard quipped.
I smiled at this inside, whilst on the outside ignoring it; not revealing anything. “One is far less important than the other.”
“And others can be pretty important.” The leopard seemed to be alluding to something else, but right now I was in a different train of thought. I sat silent.
“Perhaps this is all about the weight of knowing?”
I smiled. “Could be spot on; an added dimension to that phrase. Because it’s kinda heavy. It’s intimidating. But I do know it. Oh yes indeedy. And even if she doesn’t love me now, I know that she does.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Life just isn’t black and white.”
“It’s brown and yellow,” it replied without hesitation. “Like a leopard. Or a giraffe. It’s spotty. An apparent jumble.”
“Or a riddle!” I interrupted.
“One that can be difficult to decode, but it’s possible if one joins the dots.”
“So you have dots rather than spots?”
“See, you’re a riddle expert already. But in reality I can have whatever you want me to have. I can have blots.”
“You can have knots!”
“One would need to have quite a twisted imagination! But yes I suppose so! Boy you are infectious!”
“But what do you believe that you have, oh dear leopardy?”
“I have plots. I tell tails. You can tell a lot from reading someone’s tail.”
“And what can you tell from mine?”
“That you’ve been sitting on much of this for quite a while.”
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:42 pm
THREE OR FOUR GHOSTS IN BLUE CITY - PART TWO
Even amongst all this excitement, I arrived at a funny explanation for how I had really gotten into the leopard’s enclosure; you know, if others found out about it and desired to know. I would tell them that I had seen the light; that I had finally realised just why I had always been soooo skinny. Yes, it was all for this moment!”
Not really of course, but it’s not always great to tell the whole truth. Bent truths will more than suffice.
But me afraid or surprised by reality? Oh not at all. So I didn’t even blink when as I approached the big cat spoke.
“My name is Meo.”
“The leopard is Meo,” I whispurred to myself. There was a Finn who clearly didn’t need to go to specsavers.
She paused and smiled. “And before you say anything, please offer no thought to clever observations about the missing w, what with me being rather catish and all. It gets a little tiresome.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I responded, before raising a hand to my mouth to remove something from the tip of my tongue. That would have been an inexcusable mistake.
“So….” I knew that I ought to carry on with something, but was drawing a blank. Or at least it was far too scribbly.
“What?” Meo interjected. But like a singer losing their mic, I was soundless.”
“Would you still like me the most if there was a polar bear here?” she posed. “Or not?” This was obviously an attempt at an ice breaker.
“Oh yes indeedy,” I answered with a giggle. “And you have nothing to fear about favouritism as there is no jack russell enclosure.”
To this she produced a knowing smile, even an understanding and accepting one. “Well, have you seen the elephant?”
“Sanook?”
“Who is Sanook? We snowies only know of a creature going by the name of an elephant sook.” The snow leopard laughed. “Look at me! I will cry otherwise!”
She had a terrific sense of humour and it instantly relaxed me; I now felt capable of conversing with her properly, at least most probably.
“So you’re a universityleopard then?” I kinda assumed.
But she was merely a high school one. She talked herself down with the “merely” in case you’re wondering, not me. I thought she was amazing. She was a kinda idol to me.
“So....what did you think of history class?” I asked inquisitively.
“Like,” Meo replied succinctly. “The past is meaningful.”
“And so is the present!” I shouted. I poked her lovingly.
“Fortunately even more so,” she added with a sparkle in her eyes. Initially they appeared green, but as time wore on they became brown.
“And what of geography?”
“Good. Places, travel, plus the people you encounter, can have quite a positive effect on a creature. Oh yes indeedy.”
“English?”
“Love!” the leopardess shouted.
“Art?” I next queried.
“Art?” She showed me her claws. “It is not easy to draw with these,” she said whilst giggling.
And how about biology?” I asked lastly.
“Yuck! Strongly dislike.” It must have been all that dissecting of frogs obviously.
“Thanky for the lesson,” I said with genuine appreciation. “You make a good teacher, university or not.”
There was a pause, so what did I decide to do? I decided to take up another subject. I have the power to make the decisions.
“Miss, It must be horrible to be trapped behind these bars; your bars that keep you captive. Am I safe to assume?”
“Never assume anything my boy. These are bars – not mine mind you – that have always kept others away from me. Kept them very much at arms’ length. It’s these jaws, I know.” She stopped briefly to smirk at herself. “I try very hard not to put up barriers, though it’s true that we all have to go through bars at some point. The question is what do we see when we come out of them?”
And then something really weird happened. I mean just then. Right then and there. Meo slipped away; without saying a word, and walked right through, into the alongside enclosure. She broke through that wall as if it wasn’t there. But immediately she returned and began speaking, as if her little display was just her putting on a pot of black coffee or something.
“You’re a ghost!” I shouted, not knowing if this was a formed question and for whatever reason not even stammering. I guess I felt comfortable around this creature even if she didn’t seem to know exactly who I was. I knew her – perhaps thanks to my perceptive child spirit – and I knew that I loved her. That was what mattered. And it always would.
“Absolutely!” she declared, baring her teeth in what most would consider a snarl, but for me it was warming and smirk-inducing. “I have never met anyone like you before; a creature who thinks adulty, but sees no bars. I have never met a creature so free. But I am proof that we can be free, even once those bars are set upon us.” Meo appeared certain.
“But you’re a ghost Miss!” I repeated.
“So what? It just has to be different that’s all.”
“And what about when I see the bars? Will I ever just be able to walk through them? Will I ever be able to just dream that they are not there?”
“You seeing them?” It was as if Meo had never pondered such a possibility, and that she most definitely didn’t want to. “No….I don’t think so,” but now she didn’t sound so self-assured. “Just lay with me humble boy. Closer to my body.” She paused beautifully. “Rest your head, and all the wonder that it contains inside.”
And I did. I lay upon her fur as if it was a pillow. I paused and felt the true warmth from this real creature. Never once did I feel ill at ease. I know. I don’t expect you to understand. You can’t really. Not unless you have been there.
Even amongst all this excitement, I arrived at a funny explanation for how I had really gotten into the leopard’s enclosure; you know, if others found out about it and desired to know. I would tell them that I had seen the light; that I had finally realised just why I had always been soooo skinny. Yes, it was all for this moment!”
Not really of course, but it’s not always great to tell the whole truth. Bent truths will more than suffice.
But me afraid or surprised by reality? Oh not at all. So I didn’t even blink when as I approached the big cat spoke.
“My name is Meo.”
“The leopard is Meo,” I whispurred to myself. There was a Finn who clearly didn’t need to go to specsavers.
She paused and smiled. “And before you say anything, please offer no thought to clever observations about the missing w, what with me being rather catish and all. It gets a little tiresome.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I responded, before raising a hand to my mouth to remove something from the tip of my tongue. That would have been an inexcusable mistake.
“So….” I knew that I ought to carry on with something, but was drawing a blank. Or at least it was far too scribbly.
“What?” Meo interjected. But like a singer losing their mic, I was soundless.”
“Would you still like me the most if there was a polar bear here?” she posed. “Or not?” This was obviously an attempt at an ice breaker.
“Oh yes indeedy,” I answered with a giggle. “And you have nothing to fear about favouritism as there is no jack russell enclosure.”
To this she produced a knowing smile, even an understanding and accepting one. “Well, have you seen the elephant?”
“Sanook?”
“Who is Sanook? We snowies only know of a creature going by the name of an elephant sook.” The snow leopard laughed. “Look at me! I will cry otherwise!”
She had a terrific sense of humour and it instantly relaxed me; I now felt capable of conversing with her properly, at least most probably.
“So you’re a universityleopard then?” I kinda assumed.
But she was merely a high school one. She talked herself down with the “merely” in case you’re wondering, not me. I thought she was amazing. She was a kinda idol to me.
“So....what did you think of history class?” I asked inquisitively.
“Like,” Meo replied succinctly. “The past is meaningful.”
“And so is the present!” I shouted. I poked her lovingly.
“Fortunately even more so,” she added with a sparkle in her eyes. Initially they appeared green, but as time wore on they became brown.
“And what of geography?”
“Good. Places, travel, plus the people you encounter, can have quite a positive effect on a creature. Oh yes indeedy.”
“English?”
“Love!” the leopardess shouted.
“Art?” I next queried.
“Art?” She showed me her claws. “It is not easy to draw with these,” she said whilst giggling.
And how about biology?” I asked lastly.
“Yuck! Strongly dislike.” It must have been all that dissecting of frogs obviously.
“Thanky for the lesson,” I said with genuine appreciation. “You make a good teacher, university or not.”
There was a pause, so what did I decide to do? I decided to take up another subject. I have the power to make the decisions.
“Miss, It must be horrible to be trapped behind these bars; your bars that keep you captive. Am I safe to assume?”
“Never assume anything my boy. These are bars – not mine mind you – that have always kept others away from me. Kept them very much at arms’ length. It’s these jaws, I know.” She stopped briefly to smirk at herself. “I try very hard not to put up barriers, though it’s true that we all have to go through bars at some point. The question is what do we see when we come out of them?”
And then something really weird happened. I mean just then. Right then and there. Meo slipped away; without saying a word, and walked right through, into the alongside enclosure. She broke through that wall as if it wasn’t there. But immediately she returned and began speaking, as if her little display was just her putting on a pot of black coffee or something.
“You’re a ghost!” I shouted, not knowing if this was a formed question and for whatever reason not even stammering. I guess I felt comfortable around this creature even if she didn’t seem to know exactly who I was. I knew her – perhaps thanks to my perceptive child spirit – and I knew that I loved her. That was what mattered. And it always would.
“Absolutely!” she declared, baring her teeth in what most would consider a snarl, but for me it was warming and smirk-inducing. “I have never met anyone like you before; a creature who thinks adulty, but sees no bars. I have never met a creature so free. But I am proof that we can be free, even once those bars are set upon us.” Meo appeared certain.
“But you’re a ghost Miss!” I repeated.
“So what? It just has to be different that’s all.”
“And what about when I see the bars? Will I ever just be able to walk through them? Will I ever be able to just dream that they are not there?”
“You seeing them?” It was as if Meo had never pondered such a possibility, and that she most definitely didn’t want to. “No….I don’t think so,” but now she didn’t sound so self-assured. “Just lay with me humble boy. Closer to my body.” She paused beautifully. “Rest your head, and all the wonder that it contains inside.”
And I did. I lay upon her fur as if it was a pillow. I paused and felt the true warmth from this real creature. Never once did I feel ill at ease. I know. I don’t expect you to understand. You can’t really. Not unless you have been there.
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:45 pm
READ THE LEOPARD PRINT - PART THREE
“I seem to converse better with married women now,” I started.
“Why is that?” the leopard probed.
“Because they engage better with me. As usual with me, pun intended.”
“Why is that?” the big cat repeated.
“Because nobody wants to have their heart broken, and I have the capacity to take your heart and do as I like with it, if given the opportunity. Now I disagree with this non risk philosophy, even if for some to do so would be practically asking for it. So I understand. I understand it fully. Because it hurts. But people seem to miss the meaningfulness that can come with that pain. It’s incredible. It really is. So for me I think I will always be willing to risk it.”
“That’s if you have it to risk.”
“That’s true. But having said that, if they have confidence in their loveability and can inspire me to write creatively then there really shouldn’t be a major problem. And perhaps that could even allow it to return to me?”
“Absolutely,” the leopard chimed in. “Or at least that seems plausible. But why would anyone take you onboard when you have nothing to really risk? Because they will enter proceedings with something to offer. Something to risk. But you?”
“Yeah I know.”
“They could lose face with you.”
“What could be worse?”
“Women can be like the Japanese,” the leopard joked in agreement.
There was a hefty pause.
“So regarding your interacting with married woman,” the leopard interjected, “what’s the deal with you taking such a great risk as to write and send that newbie that story?”
“Good question. Firstly leopardy, the number one thingy that I like to do in life is to write stories, and secondly to gain attention – and appreciation – of them. Generally this is to and from women, as this is who I gain my inspiration from. I don’t write them stories so as to get them to be with me. Well, that would be nice, but I’ve long known that this isn’t a reliable form of attracting a mate so to speak, since only one girl ever has wanted – and been willing – to be with me as a result of my writing. And for that I shall always love her hippo heapsy, even though I can see full well that there are mitigating circumstances with all of that. So anyhoo, I write stories for me, not for them; and I send them to feel good about myself, to perhaps get positive feedback; not to receive physical interaction. Positive feedback on my writing – and not just with stories - brings me too much joy to put into mere words. It is what I cherish the most in life.”
“But still, why take such a giant risk as to send to her?” the leopard persisted.
“Yes, there is another factor,” I acknowledged. “One only fully realised recently. That is that I just don’t care. Or I just don’t care enough. About my job I mean. Because what I’ve realised is that what drives us, whilst also keeping us stable, is the fear of losing our partner or wife, or of losing their love for us or just some of it, or of losing our dateability even, if we do happen to be single. I risk none of that. Absolutely zilch. Nor do I have a mortgage to worry about. So there is absolutely no reason to get hugely stressed out about possibly losing my job. That said, I probably should care a little more as I do enjoy working there; it’s become one of my life families. And yes, I still need to scrape together some money to get by, especially with my pooches in mind, but job status or not wise, my darling dogs will always love me no matter what, as will my family, plus some close friends. So I just don’t have anything to lose. Not really. So why not take a huge, but fun risk?”
“Oh Greggy,” sighed the leopard.
“And they could certainly give me the flick with the occasional silly errors that I make too. I soooo often have my head in the clouds.”
“Yeah, you’re damn sure full of fluff.”
“I’m a plush toy!” I squeaked with joy.
The leopard knocked on my head playfully. “Actually you’re one that’s obviously been de-fluffed.”
“I haven’t even cared much that I’ve been informed that my emails are now being monitored,” I chuckled. “Initially I felt a little down, but then I began to laugh about it, knowing full well that I should have been fired ages ago anyhoo, especially in regards to stuff like fragile windows!”
“Yes, how dare you speak about your product like that,” the leopard said with a grin.
“Yes, like Summer proclaimed at the playground, if you live in too much fear then life ceases to be worth living. And my life is absolutely worthwhile, oh yes indeedy, but really, for various reasons, just being a customer care estimator isn’t worthwhile enough for a worthwhile woman to take a punt on me. I mean, I am far more loveable than most guys, but that’s the point; they’d rather date someone safe.”
“And you are not safe? You seem nice enough to me.”
“Nice sometimes yes. But certainly not safe. They perhaps ask themselves, “Am I good enough to keep you?” and don’t answer in the affirmative. And that’s why belief in ones loveability is important for everyone. It might even mean that you approach someone special whom you otherwise wouldn’t.”
“Or re-approach?”
“Exactly. But another thing,” I murmured, “is that there is only one way that I am likely to have women swooning over me, and be willing to be with me too.”
“And; that’s rather funny. Perhaps that’s it. You are too funny for your own good.”
“Absolutely! But they need to be put into a position to be able to say, “Yeah, he broke my heart, which I never had the chance to even do to him, but at least I dated someone with stature.””
“Stature?”
“Yes. At least they dated a successful writer. I would be worth the risk then. So to lose my job, and throw myself into writing even more heavily is kind of a motivating thought, not that I’m wanting to lose it, but that thought made me more willing to risk it. I mean I love story writing anyhoo, but if I can take on board the theory that it can assist with me being able to date someone worthwhile again, then that’s a great positive towards the seriousness police mark two.”
“And why publish such short stories online, yet so obscurely?”
“Well hope is a good thing; maybe the best of things.”
“That’s from the Shawshank Redemption!” interrupted the leopard.
“Absolutely! And that hope is the weirdness that maybe another would see it in four months, or four years or whatever, and that it would make them smile. It would be a special moment, even if I didn’t know it.”
“You’re a weird cat,” declared the leopard.
“Oh yes indeedy.”
“So you have known a woman to be a Queen Of Stalkery?”
“Known?”
“Yes, known.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, a woman.”
“Why ask an impossible question? No, of course I have never known a woman to be a Queen Of Stalkery. That would be telling.” Perhaps strangely right now I giggled so sweet.
“But you believe it is possible for one to stalk you?”
“Absolutely.”
“And what is so important about that?”
“There might be no greater sign of love than being a King or Queen of online stalkery.”
“How do you know that dear boy?”
“I know.”
“Well, getting back to that rather blue story you posted not so long ago, you certainly seemed to be anti-wishes.”
“Anti-wishes? Come on! I was tongue in cheek!”
“Oh really?” probed the loveable leopard further.
“I was merely trying to proclaim the need to be assertive in order to achieve external outcomes. I mean, wishes are more for the internal right? They can give you belief.”
“But couldn’t that belief lead to external outcomes somewhere down the track.” The leopard had me there.
“Absolutely. Well, perhaps I felt the need to swear though as it’s good for emphasis, as we all know.”
“Swear?”
“Yes swear. Me saying anything remotely anti-wish is obvious blasphemy. So I think I was just a little confused maybe. Thank goodness that I’ve got your excellent emotional intelligence alongside of me. Someone who isn’t stupid.”
“I seem to converse better with married women now,” I started.
“Why is that?” the leopard probed.
“Because they engage better with me. As usual with me, pun intended.”
“Why is that?” the big cat repeated.
“Because nobody wants to have their heart broken, and I have the capacity to take your heart and do as I like with it, if given the opportunity. Now I disagree with this non risk philosophy, even if for some to do so would be practically asking for it. So I understand. I understand it fully. Because it hurts. But people seem to miss the meaningfulness that can come with that pain. It’s incredible. It really is. So for me I think I will always be willing to risk it.”
“That’s if you have it to risk.”
“That’s true. But having said that, if they have confidence in their loveability and can inspire me to write creatively then there really shouldn’t be a major problem. And perhaps that could even allow it to return to me?”
“Absolutely,” the leopard chimed in. “Or at least that seems plausible. But why would anyone take you onboard when you have nothing to really risk? Because they will enter proceedings with something to offer. Something to risk. But you?”
“Yeah I know.”
“They could lose face with you.”
“What could be worse?”
“Women can be like the Japanese,” the leopard joked in agreement.
There was a hefty pause.
“So regarding your interacting with married woman,” the leopard interjected, “what’s the deal with you taking such a great risk as to write and send that newbie that story?”
“Good question. Firstly leopardy, the number one thingy that I like to do in life is to write stories, and secondly to gain attention – and appreciation – of them. Generally this is to and from women, as this is who I gain my inspiration from. I don’t write them stories so as to get them to be with me. Well, that would be nice, but I’ve long known that this isn’t a reliable form of attracting a mate so to speak, since only one girl ever has wanted – and been willing – to be with me as a result of my writing. And for that I shall always love her hippo heapsy, even though I can see full well that there are mitigating circumstances with all of that. So anyhoo, I write stories for me, not for them; and I send them to feel good about myself, to perhaps get positive feedback; not to receive physical interaction. Positive feedback on my writing – and not just with stories - brings me too much joy to put into mere words. It is what I cherish the most in life.”
“But still, why take such a giant risk as to send to her?” the leopard persisted.
“Yes, there is another factor,” I acknowledged. “One only fully realised recently. That is that I just don’t care. Or I just don’t care enough. About my job I mean. Because what I’ve realised is that what drives us, whilst also keeping us stable, is the fear of losing our partner or wife, or of losing their love for us or just some of it, or of losing our dateability even, if we do happen to be single. I risk none of that. Absolutely zilch. Nor do I have a mortgage to worry about. So there is absolutely no reason to get hugely stressed out about possibly losing my job. That said, I probably should care a little more as I do enjoy working there; it’s become one of my life families. And yes, I still need to scrape together some money to get by, especially with my pooches in mind, but job status or not wise, my darling dogs will always love me no matter what, as will my family, plus some close friends. So I just don’t have anything to lose. Not really. So why not take a huge, but fun risk?”
“Oh Greggy,” sighed the leopard.
“And they could certainly give me the flick with the occasional silly errors that I make too. I soooo often have my head in the clouds.”
“Yeah, you’re damn sure full of fluff.”
“I’m a plush toy!” I squeaked with joy.
The leopard knocked on my head playfully. “Actually you’re one that’s obviously been de-fluffed.”
“I haven’t even cared much that I’ve been informed that my emails are now being monitored,” I chuckled. “Initially I felt a little down, but then I began to laugh about it, knowing full well that I should have been fired ages ago anyhoo, especially in regards to stuff like fragile windows!”
“Yes, how dare you speak about your product like that,” the leopard said with a grin.
“Yes, like Summer proclaimed at the playground, if you live in too much fear then life ceases to be worth living. And my life is absolutely worthwhile, oh yes indeedy, but really, for various reasons, just being a customer care estimator isn’t worthwhile enough for a worthwhile woman to take a punt on me. I mean, I am far more loveable than most guys, but that’s the point; they’d rather date someone safe.”
“And you are not safe? You seem nice enough to me.”
“Nice sometimes yes. But certainly not safe. They perhaps ask themselves, “Am I good enough to keep you?” and don’t answer in the affirmative. And that’s why belief in ones loveability is important for everyone. It might even mean that you approach someone special whom you otherwise wouldn’t.”
“Or re-approach?”
“Exactly. But another thing,” I murmured, “is that there is only one way that I am likely to have women swooning over me, and be willing to be with me too.”
“And; that’s rather funny. Perhaps that’s it. You are too funny for your own good.”
“Absolutely! But they need to be put into a position to be able to say, “Yeah, he broke my heart, which I never had the chance to even do to him, but at least I dated someone with stature.””
“Stature?”
“Yes. At least they dated a successful writer. I would be worth the risk then. So to lose my job, and throw myself into writing even more heavily is kind of a motivating thought, not that I’m wanting to lose it, but that thought made me more willing to risk it. I mean I love story writing anyhoo, but if I can take on board the theory that it can assist with me being able to date someone worthwhile again, then that’s a great positive towards the seriousness police mark two.”
“And why publish such short stories online, yet so obscurely?”
“Well hope is a good thing; maybe the best of things.”
“That’s from the Shawshank Redemption!” interrupted the leopard.
“Absolutely! And that hope is the weirdness that maybe another would see it in four months, or four years or whatever, and that it would make them smile. It would be a special moment, even if I didn’t know it.”
“You’re a weird cat,” declared the leopard.
“Oh yes indeedy.”
“So you have known a woman to be a Queen Of Stalkery?”
“Known?”
“Yes, known.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, a woman.”
“Why ask an impossible question? No, of course I have never known a woman to be a Queen Of Stalkery. That would be telling.” Perhaps strangely right now I giggled so sweet.
“But you believe it is possible for one to stalk you?”
“Absolutely.”
“And what is so important about that?”
“There might be no greater sign of love than being a King or Queen of online stalkery.”
“How do you know that dear boy?”
“I know.”
“Well, getting back to that rather blue story you posted not so long ago, you certainly seemed to be anti-wishes.”
“Anti-wishes? Come on! I was tongue in cheek!”
“Oh really?” probed the loveable leopard further.
“I was merely trying to proclaim the need to be assertive in order to achieve external outcomes. I mean, wishes are more for the internal right? They can give you belief.”
“But couldn’t that belief lead to external outcomes somewhere down the track.” The leopard had me there.
“Absolutely. Well, perhaps I felt the need to swear though as it’s good for emphasis, as we all know.”
“Swear?”
“Yes swear. Me saying anything remotely anti-wish is obvious blasphemy. So I think I was just a little confused maybe. Thank goodness that I’ve got your excellent emotional intelligence alongside of me. Someone who isn’t stupid.”
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:46 pm
THREE OR FOUR GHOSTS IN BLUE CITY - PART THREE
We were having the most wonderous, smirk-inducing, huggable hippo and nose nuzzling conversations, but as well as the break in play for snooze/snuggle time, there was also the matter of what was on the menu. Fortunately it wasn’t a boy. It was pork, or perhaps bacon; something from a pig anyhoo, but when invited to join her at the table I couldn’t; I suddenly felt the urge to eat only veggies. It was probably the butterflies in my stomach.
Or I just wanted to eat like one of the factually correct world’s top ten creatures, the snail.
Then, something else amazing happened. Entering into our enclosure – through the wall – came another leopard, a so-called more normal looking one. Well I’ll be!
“I’d like you to meet Kashmar!” exclaimed Meo. “This leopard has come all the way from across the Persian gulf,” she explained.
“So that means that to get there we can take a boat?!” I asked in excitement.
“No. This has nothing to do with bodies of water or forms of transport,” Kashmar pointed out.
“Oh. I’m very sorry for any misunderstanding. Really. Well, I don’t think that it matters anyway.”
“Anyhoo,” interjected Meo, “may I ask how old are you?”
Of course she could ask. I loved this leopard. She could ask me anything. And I wished that she always felt as if she could. No matter what.
“I am fourteen.”
“Fourteen! But you are nothing of the sort. Quite clearly you are an adult.”
“Perhaps physically. But I am fourteen. In spirit.”
“I have never met anyone like you before,” Meo said, “so perhaps that is a good answer. Perhaps you really are fourteen. An adult with an awakened spirit. An adult with a childlike soul.”
“That’s lovely Meo. Thanky,” I offered. Now I turned to Kashmar. “And what is your story?”
“I am a Persian leopard,” he answered. Seeing out my final days in Melbourne. I am lucky. This really is such a beautiful city.”
I stood there a little spellbound. Quite clearly this leopard could not see very well, yet at the same time it obviously could. Things aren’t always as they seem.
“And how many leopardys are there here?” I asked both furries.
“There are four of us,” explained Meo purrfectly. “Three are snowies. Nobody seems to be able to see us.”
“But why for huggable hippos sake not?” I asked.
“They see us as ghosts, because we are not the normal looking leopards, and if creatures think of you in a certain way for long enough then it is possible that you become exactly that.”
“Could that happen with becoming a great writer with an imaginative mind too?!”
“Steady on there boy. Now excuse me for a moment.” She let out a delightful whisker whistle. “I would like you to meet my other friends.”
“Oooh, this is scary,” I partly joked. “Soon I will be amongst three ghosts!”
“Four. There are four of us. Get that straight.”
“Kashmar a fourth ghost? But she looks nothing like you three. And she only has one eye. So how can that be right?”
“It is the others who cannot see. Sometimes you have to read between the lions. Life contains heaps of grey areas.”
“That matter!” I shouted. “And like you exotic snowies!”
“I prefer to think of us as white. You do have a wild imagination.”
“Oh yes indeedy.”
“The Persian is exotic too,” the great cat continued. “Though he looks like a normal leopard, Persians are princes, and rugs. So he is extremely exotic indeedy. So there are four of us, not three. It’s only to the untrained eye that there are three.”
“Love me,” I whispered, a little out of the blue.
“Most definitely!” declared the leopard. And on the subject of love, we ought to be popular to the masses, as we are really more lion like than leopard.”
“Now don’t make me strongly dislike you,” I joked.
“When we first came to Melbourne the keepers wanted to advertise us as snow lions, knowing full well how loved we’d be, but we politely declined. For we may look rather lionish, but deep down we have a leopards soul.”
I don’t know why, but right then I hugged him. “But wouldn’t you be still…unviewable?”
“Hardly. Anyone can see the lions. It’s seeing what’s between them that can be a problem.”
I paused to take stock. Man, these leopards were bloody profound!
It was now that another snowie entered the premises. And just a few moments later arrived the other.
“Struth, where did you come from? Siberia?”
“No, but I do happen to be across from the tiger,” answered the latter succinctly. Their names were Tashi and Leon. We exchanged general pleasantries. But mainly I just wanted to speak to the first leopard.
“Oh Meo! I haven’t yet asked where you are from?”
“I am actually from Stuttgart. The country where Andreas Kloden is from, as we all know.”
“Can’t say that I know much or anything about him,” I responded. Kloden was apparently some cyclist. Well, if he wasn’t the Giro rider than I didn’t care.
“But isn’t Stuttgart the place of the grand water fountains? I just didn’t expect you to be really from there I suppose.”
“Yes! It does have the bestest fountains!” She was again wonderfully childishly happy. “But how did you know about this?”
“Life surely is strange and full of coincidences,” I offered.
“Absolutely!” Meo agreed wholeheartedly. “But you are surprised that I am a Stuttgartian?”
“I just thought you were from Melbourne. Or I didn’t think really. I just thought that you might have been from here. From a beach town or something.”
“The beach! What weird thinking or not you have my boy wonder! Why would a snow leopard reside by the beach?”
“I do not know.” I paused, trying to come up with something to excuse me of my error. “Opposites attract?”
“Yes they can, though I am not, from a beach town that is, but that hardly matters,” declared the leopard. “Melbourney is my new home. And home is where the heart is. Oh yes indeedy.”
We were having the most wonderous, smirk-inducing, huggable hippo and nose nuzzling conversations, but as well as the break in play for snooze/snuggle time, there was also the matter of what was on the menu. Fortunately it wasn’t a boy. It was pork, or perhaps bacon; something from a pig anyhoo, but when invited to join her at the table I couldn’t; I suddenly felt the urge to eat only veggies. It was probably the butterflies in my stomach.
Or I just wanted to eat like one of the factually correct world’s top ten creatures, the snail.
Then, something else amazing happened. Entering into our enclosure – through the wall – came another leopard, a so-called more normal looking one. Well I’ll be!
“I’d like you to meet Kashmar!” exclaimed Meo. “This leopard has come all the way from across the Persian gulf,” she explained.
“So that means that to get there we can take a boat?!” I asked in excitement.
“No. This has nothing to do with bodies of water or forms of transport,” Kashmar pointed out.
“Oh. I’m very sorry for any misunderstanding. Really. Well, I don’t think that it matters anyway.”
“Anyhoo,” interjected Meo, “may I ask how old are you?”
Of course she could ask. I loved this leopard. She could ask me anything. And I wished that she always felt as if she could. No matter what.
“I am fourteen.”
“Fourteen! But you are nothing of the sort. Quite clearly you are an adult.”
“Perhaps physically. But I am fourteen. In spirit.”
“I have never met anyone like you before,” Meo said, “so perhaps that is a good answer. Perhaps you really are fourteen. An adult with an awakened spirit. An adult with a childlike soul.”
“That’s lovely Meo. Thanky,” I offered. Now I turned to Kashmar. “And what is your story?”
“I am a Persian leopard,” he answered. Seeing out my final days in Melbourne. I am lucky. This really is such a beautiful city.”
I stood there a little spellbound. Quite clearly this leopard could not see very well, yet at the same time it obviously could. Things aren’t always as they seem.
“And how many leopardys are there here?” I asked both furries.
“There are four of us,” explained Meo purrfectly. “Three are snowies. Nobody seems to be able to see us.”
“But why for huggable hippos sake not?” I asked.
“They see us as ghosts, because we are not the normal looking leopards, and if creatures think of you in a certain way for long enough then it is possible that you become exactly that.”
“Could that happen with becoming a great writer with an imaginative mind too?!”
“Steady on there boy. Now excuse me for a moment.” She let out a delightful whisker whistle. “I would like you to meet my other friends.”
“Oooh, this is scary,” I partly joked. “Soon I will be amongst three ghosts!”
“Four. There are four of us. Get that straight.”
“Kashmar a fourth ghost? But she looks nothing like you three. And she only has one eye. So how can that be right?”
“It is the others who cannot see. Sometimes you have to read between the lions. Life contains heaps of grey areas.”
“That matter!” I shouted. “And like you exotic snowies!”
“I prefer to think of us as white. You do have a wild imagination.”
“Oh yes indeedy.”
“The Persian is exotic too,” the great cat continued. “Though he looks like a normal leopard, Persians are princes, and rugs. So he is extremely exotic indeedy. So there are four of us, not three. It’s only to the untrained eye that there are three.”
“Love me,” I whispered, a little out of the blue.
“Most definitely!” declared the leopard. And on the subject of love, we ought to be popular to the masses, as we are really more lion like than leopard.”
“Now don’t make me strongly dislike you,” I joked.
“When we first came to Melbourne the keepers wanted to advertise us as snow lions, knowing full well how loved we’d be, but we politely declined. For we may look rather lionish, but deep down we have a leopards soul.”
I don’t know why, but right then I hugged him. “But wouldn’t you be still…unviewable?”
“Hardly. Anyone can see the lions. It’s seeing what’s between them that can be a problem.”
I paused to take stock. Man, these leopards were bloody profound!
It was now that another snowie entered the premises. And just a few moments later arrived the other.
“Struth, where did you come from? Siberia?”
“No, but I do happen to be across from the tiger,” answered the latter succinctly. Their names were Tashi and Leon. We exchanged general pleasantries. But mainly I just wanted to speak to the first leopard.
“Oh Meo! I haven’t yet asked where you are from?”
“I am actually from Stuttgart. The country where Andreas Kloden is from, as we all know.”
“Can’t say that I know much or anything about him,” I responded. Kloden was apparently some cyclist. Well, if he wasn’t the Giro rider than I didn’t care.
“But isn’t Stuttgart the place of the grand water fountains? I just didn’t expect you to be really from there I suppose.”
“Yes! It does have the bestest fountains!” She was again wonderfully childishly happy. “But how did you know about this?”
“Life surely is strange and full of coincidences,” I offered.
“Absolutely!” Meo agreed wholeheartedly. “But you are surprised that I am a Stuttgartian?”
“I just thought you were from Melbourne. Or I didn’t think really. I just thought that you might have been from here. From a beach town or something.”
“The beach! What weird thinking or not you have my boy wonder! Why would a snow leopard reside by the beach?”
“I do not know.” I paused, trying to come up with something to excuse me of my error. “Opposites attract?”
“Yes they can, though I am not, from a beach town that is, but that hardly matters,” declared the leopard. “Melbourney is my new home. And home is where the heart is. Oh yes indeedy.”
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:49 pm
Four 'chapters' compiled in the space of seven minutes! I must be the world's fastest writer
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Mon Jun 03, 2013 3:46 pm
and a mega 
- that was something else. I wil definitely read it again as I am a bit rushed with our newbie Rosie today so may not have taken it all in Mrs Kipia E
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Tue Jun 04, 2013 11:50 am
THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARGER - PART TWO The
hung around his 
friend with much regularity, occasionally doing something that looked a little like 
But only to some.
The
became more and more ful and , as it began to occur to him that this creature, somehow, would not be moved."I cannot shove you away;
!" cried the 
emphatically."Shove?" queried the
. "Why I never thought of you as doing any such thingy.""Oh, well I've never meant to be a shover," the
confided, "but I gathered that's what I was, as the outcome to too much 
was seemingly .""No!" insisted the
with true vigour. "Your and is in fact necking.""Absolutely!" the
screamed in delight. "It is loving."And then he
her."We really are the best of bunnies."
"Don't you mean buddies?" the
questioned."No, it's most definitely bunnies. Because a best
will still like you no matter how much rabbitting you do.""Well they're certainly a best
if they still like you no matter how much 
and 
you do," she said half tongue in cheek.The giraffe giggled gregariously
"I hadn't thought of that, though 
. But I mean that no matter how much 
one does they will continue to listen, and be a friend. That's what I mean by a best .""That's awfully sweet."
"Well it's deserved," insisted the giraffe. "I don't feel like a pushy
, but rather a profound one. And for all of that you've earned yourself a new nickname; you know, to add to Eccentric.""Which is? Tell me! Now!" She demanded so with a grin-inducing childishness.
"It's Easter Elephant. You like?"
"I love," whispered the
. "But don't sell yourself short my tall friend. You've stuck around for more than six months now. You're a part of the furrniture. A purrfect part. Oh yes indeedy.""Nobody's purrfect," concurred the giraffe. "But we can certainly agree on something else about friendship. Best
ies do not 
out of there on each other!"Giraffe boy.
for another 
for my thoughts."
GR aka
etcLast edited by gregrowlerson on Tue Jun 04, 2013 11:55 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : furRniture :-))
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Tue Jun 04, 2013 2:06 pm
that was great, and wonderful to keep up with - I am 
at all the interactions.Mrs Kipia et al S
ps glad you got the
in - he is very important
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Wed Jun 05, 2013 1:29 pm
It was a kinda smiley storey It's very colourful
I was going to attempt work on yet another short story tonight, but haven't really had time. In fact had the pooches on my lap (even both at once for a while
) for an hour or so, and internet connection was a disaster for most of the evening. So I kept taking the connection out of the laptop, trying again and so forth. I was getting rather 
"Just work!!"
I have two laptops actually One I use for the internet and the other for writing (well, longer projects; last nights tale was produced entirely on WAA...very authentic ). I would only have one, but last year my power cord stopped functioning, so with these laptops being rather cheap (about $250, they are small and have no CD player) I decided to buy another and use that charger to charge both. So there is a lot of switching about. Fortunately when not touched for a while a laptop goes into power save mode, though for example today my writing laptop had shutdown completely when I went to use it tonight (I just generally leave both on at all times, and the writing one often has ten or so word pages opened up ready to use, and as reminders for what I want to write, work on) and even the word pages did not go into autosave it seems (which just mean that they reopen them when you start word again), but I shouldn't have lost any 'work'. Just need to go through files and remember what stuff I was working on (searching by last updated pages will help), though with TSP2 I had like 50-100 pages or so of different stuff that I was last going over almost two months ago....I will have to refind what I was up to
What a ramble! I could possibly have written a short story during that time! Best wishes to you Mrs Kipia. Let us know about your encounter (hopefully a ing one) with Kip.
GR
It's very colourful I was going to attempt work on yet another short story tonight, but haven't really had time. In fact had the pooches on my lap (even both at once for a while
) for an hour or so, and internet connection was a disaster for most of the evening. So I kept taking the connection out of the laptop, trying again and so forth. I was getting rather "Just
work!!"I have two laptops actually
One I use for the internet and the other for writing (well, longer projects; last nights tale was produced entirely on WAA...very authentic ). I would only have one, but last year my power cord stopped functioning, so with these laptops being rather cheap (about $250, they are small and have no CD player) I decided to buy another and use that charger to charge both. So there is a lot of switching about. Fortunately when not touched for a while a laptop goes into power save mode, though for example today my writing laptop had shutdown completely when I went to use it tonight (I just generally leave both on at all times, and the writing one often has ten or so word pages opened up ready to use, and as reminders for what I want to write, work on) and even the word pages did not go into autosave it seems (which just mean that they reopen them when you start word again), but I shouldn't have lost any 'work'. Just need to go through files and remember what stuff I was working on (searching by last updated pages will help), though with TSP2 I had like 50-100 pages or so of different stuff that I was last going over almost two months ago....I will have to refind what I was up to What a ramble! I could possibly have written a short story during that time! Best wishes to you Mrs Kipia. Let us know about your encounter (hopefully a
ing one) with Kip.GR
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Wed Jun 05, 2013 5:46 pm
I might have to read that a couple of times to get the gist of it Mrs Kip (ia)
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Sun Jun 16, 2013 1:15 pm
AN ORIGINAL CONFIDANT
I was thinking of the show Outnumbered the other day – one of my favourites – and of Karen’s World War 2 project, made mention of when she and the family travelled around London. So I thought that since the project itself has never been revealed, then why not write a hypothetical one myself? So here it is; something World War 2ish. Inspired by the Karen character obviously.
Disclaimer: Sorry guys, but there are no animals in this story. And I consider this thread now to be my creative writing outlet/home. I promise that the next short story will contain animals!
****
World War 2 is such a hippo hugey topic overall, so I decided to focus mainly on three countries; Australia, Poland and Germany.
With Germany looming as a threat to the security of the world, all eyes turned to the worldwide leader in democracy, England. And thus, my World War 2 story begins in London.
It was still times of peace – officially speaking – when a youngish Australian man set foot in England; quite unbeknownst to him, for training for the battlefields that lay ahead. Here he encountered a Polish pilot, and the effects were so great that well, his world just wasn’t going to be the same again.
And with that, he made her his original confidant.
He would rabbit to her. And I mean really rabbit. They had a connection you know, even if such was largely ignored. He was the first person whom he felt really comfortable enough with to open up to. Why? He wasn’t exactly sure. But what she knew, though what he – being from the far off land of Australia – mostly didn’t, was that war was on the horizon. The Pole knew the need to tread carefully; even if the Aussie was perhaps a little more gunho.
She had life experience. He did not.
There was quite a long build up to World War 2, as we all know, and as the war got closer the two largely lost contact; but still, he considered her as his confidant for just over a year as the tension built, and then, rather unceremoniously I might add, Poland was attacked. So understandably she shut up shop for a while. And the allies spent the next twelve months being pummelled, with Germany gaining control over most of Europe. The Australian soldier – due to understandable circumstances – would be off to fight in other lands.
****
It was the most confusing time of the entire war. Australia had begun to focus most of its efforts in North Africa. The Australian soldier was mixed up in a sea of sand; the storms making it rather difficult for him to see clearly during the desperate battles. And let’s face it, who would have wanted to be there even without the gunfire; long walks across such terrain invariably result in sand attaching itself to you, and boy it can be frustrating trying to get clean again (I wanted to swear in this sentence, but given that this is for a school project I thought I’d better show some decorum).
Anyhoo, it was most definitely just deserts, not desserts. Ice-cream would come much, much later. But by which time it would be a case of thanky very muchly. Oh yes indeedy. For the Australian soldier would have wanted ice-cream there and then, but when we don’t always get what we want it can make us much more appreciative of it, when we do, do do, do, do do do.
Other minor events in the war were taking place, or apparently minor. For I am sure that allied troops – led by some anti-social Aussies - didn’t think anything major of it when they captured a Nazi ship on a Norwegian Bay, but as they say, things happen when you least expect it. And so what they discovered inside was a code. A code that would give them belief.
So what do I believe was the answer that the code gave?
Stand up for yourself, display your personality, and have fun.
The latter is obviously deemed for later, since nobody was having too much fun during the middle stages of the war.
The German code was labelled ENIGMA, and it was a much apt name, for although now in capable hands, it was ULTRA difficult to decode (ULTRA being the description given for cracking codes). Despite some fast initial breakthroughs, it still took the best part of two years to fully sink in. And once they knew that, the sky was the limit.
Actually that’s a rather silly phrase, because even the sky was no limit. So the limit was now my space.
So during this lengthy phase of the war the allies were often losing…on the outside. But on the inside they were code cracking….and these small steps forward were sure to lead to a giant leap – on the outside – later.
It would ensure that one day they would go back; into mainland Europe. But there would be a lot of bridges to cross before then. There is a lot of water between England and Europe you know.
And for the moment it was going to be anything but smooth sailing, for there was a fourth wheel added to the German code once they became suspicious that their original code had been cracked in the aftermath of the ship capture.
This addition multiplied the settings by a possible twenty-six. But you could rest ashore that this would only strengthen the allies resolve long term. Alpha bet?
When all is said and done Winston Churchill was right. That without that great, unexpected find on The Bay, subsequent events could never have happened. Perhaps in time, Australia would have unknowingly become a different nation; A creature that was no longer of its true essence. A nation that would have had to swear for something that it did not really believe in.
****
Since the beginning of the war she had been a sounding board for him. A Polish fighter pilot keeping an ear open for an Australian soldier.
Early in the war he hadn’t even really known what he was doing, and in fact during the middle stretch – and even occasionally late on - he was unsure of exactly what was real. War can do that, but it can also, eventually, make things totally clear too.
About what is more real than anything else.
So now, almost six years on from there initial encounter, he had confided in her about a project that he was embarking on; one that he had told nobody about. With the storm into Germany full steam ahead, he – and his unit – was about to traipse into civilian territory. He knew that he was going to be involving children in something that was well, harshly adult; yet he was adamant that it was the right thing to do, and this he explained to the pilot in profound detail.
He even made mention of how he would consider a stop off in London; as a weird kind of celebration I guess. Only he would need an invitation obviously.
She didn’t reply. But still she listened. And that would be important. Important for later.
The final push into Germany was an approximate nine month project, but even to get to that point had resulted in complications, with battles of the bulge and so forth. Cracking codes was a good start, but continuing on from that theme, the allies really had to use their imagination to make even greater advances. Like snails they slid forward, using their initiative to find new ways to make progress. And like a surfboard they were making waves.
He wouldn’t talk much about actual Germany though. That was still too close to his heart.
A great strength of the Australian soldier was an ability to see things from another perspective. He never once had ill feeling about his apparent opposition. He knew that what had happened to Germany – with Hitler – was quintessentially beyond her control. Given the same circumstances it could have happened to Australia too. And that’s scary. Because Germans – like everyone else – are generally good people. In actual fact they can be the bestest.
And post Germany he went through some periods of questioning. Just why had they penetrated Germany; penetrated her so soon? Because others would have surely come later, and perhaps by then, the defenceless part of Germany would be better able to handle such invasion?
It was sometime later and the war was over. The Australian soldier was beginning to forgive himself a little more for the apparent atrocities – even Germany (with the smoke from all that gunfire now clearing all around her) was in the process of full forgiveness (everything shall be fine in the end, remember that even the Berlin Wally would eventually come crashing down) - but perhaps it was difficult to forgive himself fully without being given the okay by a certain someone. Only he had no idea of that until she spoke. He must have caught her at a weak moment.
“You’re very sweet writer boy,” she said. There wasn’t a whole heap more, but there didn’t need to be. She didn’t see him as some kind of monster. She understood completely.
“You’re such a beautiful woman,” he uttered. “Yet you’re still single?”
“Of course,” she answered.
“How about you marry me, keep your name, and we will have a JK Rowlerson!” he half joked.
She smiled. How could she not? “I am a knowledgeable woman of the world. I know which battles can and cannot be won.”
There was loud silence. Because silence – as far as I can tell – often says more than sound.
“Do you think that there will be more wars?” he asked.
“There will always be wars I think,” she said wisely. “For humans are biologically born to fight. Nevertheless, doesn’t it make it all oh so meaningful.”
The Australian nodded his head in full agreement.
****
Disclaimer: Apologies for the lack of specific details in this story and subsequent offence to any World War 2 freaks out there. But this was told through the eyes of a young girl, who was of an age when all of the little things don’t matter quite so much.
She also couldn’t be bothered doing much research. Perhaps in the years ahead she will re-write this up to be a much more comprehensive piece of prose.
I was thinking of the show Outnumbered the other day – one of my favourites – and of Karen’s World War 2 project, made mention of when she and the family travelled around London. So I thought that since the project itself has never been revealed, then why not write a hypothetical one myself? So here it is; something World War 2ish. Inspired by the Karen character obviously.
Disclaimer: Sorry guys, but there are no animals in this story. And I consider this thread now to be my creative writing outlet/home. I promise that the next short story will contain animals!
****
World War 2 is such a hippo hugey topic overall, so I decided to focus mainly on three countries; Australia, Poland and Germany.
With Germany looming as a threat to the security of the world, all eyes turned to the worldwide leader in democracy, England. And thus, my World War 2 story begins in London.
It was still times of peace – officially speaking – when a youngish Australian man set foot in England; quite unbeknownst to him, for training for the battlefields that lay ahead. Here he encountered a Polish pilot, and the effects were so great that well, his world just wasn’t going to be the same again.
And with that, he made her his original confidant.
He would rabbit to her. And I mean really rabbit. They had a connection you know, even if such was largely ignored. He was the first person whom he felt really comfortable enough with to open up to. Why? He wasn’t exactly sure. But what she knew, though what he – being from the far off land of Australia – mostly didn’t, was that war was on the horizon. The Pole knew the need to tread carefully; even if the Aussie was perhaps a little more gunho.
She had life experience. He did not.
There was quite a long build up to World War 2, as we all know, and as the war got closer the two largely lost contact; but still, he considered her as his confidant for just over a year as the tension built, and then, rather unceremoniously I might add, Poland was attacked. So understandably she shut up shop for a while. And the allies spent the next twelve months being pummelled, with Germany gaining control over most of Europe. The Australian soldier – due to understandable circumstances – would be off to fight in other lands.
****
It was the most confusing time of the entire war. Australia had begun to focus most of its efforts in North Africa. The Australian soldier was mixed up in a sea of sand; the storms making it rather difficult for him to see clearly during the desperate battles. And let’s face it, who would have wanted to be there even without the gunfire; long walks across such terrain invariably result in sand attaching itself to you, and boy it can be frustrating trying to get clean again (I wanted to swear in this sentence, but given that this is for a school project I thought I’d better show some decorum).
Anyhoo, it was most definitely just deserts, not desserts. Ice-cream would come much, much later. But by which time it would be a case of thanky very muchly. Oh yes indeedy. For the Australian soldier would have wanted ice-cream there and then, but when we don’t always get what we want it can make us much more appreciative of it, when we do, do do, do, do do do.
Other minor events in the war were taking place, or apparently minor. For I am sure that allied troops – led by some anti-social Aussies - didn’t think anything major of it when they captured a Nazi ship on a Norwegian Bay, but as they say, things happen when you least expect it. And so what they discovered inside was a code. A code that would give them belief.
So what do I believe was the answer that the code gave?
Stand up for yourself, display your personality, and have fun.
The latter is obviously deemed for later, since nobody was having too much fun during the middle stages of the war.
The German code was labelled ENIGMA, and it was a much apt name, for although now in capable hands, it was ULTRA difficult to decode (ULTRA being the description given for cracking codes). Despite some fast initial breakthroughs, it still took the best part of two years to fully sink in. And once they knew that, the sky was the limit.
Actually that’s a rather silly phrase, because even the sky was no limit. So the limit was now my space.
So during this lengthy phase of the war the allies were often losing…on the outside. But on the inside they were code cracking….and these small steps forward were sure to lead to a giant leap – on the outside – later.
It would ensure that one day they would go back; into mainland Europe. But there would be a lot of bridges to cross before then. There is a lot of water between England and Europe you know.
And for the moment it was going to be anything but smooth sailing, for there was a fourth wheel added to the German code once they became suspicious that their original code had been cracked in the aftermath of the ship capture.
This addition multiplied the settings by a possible twenty-six. But you could rest ashore that this would only strengthen the allies resolve long term. Alpha bet?
When all is said and done Winston Churchill was right. That without that great, unexpected find on The Bay, subsequent events could never have happened. Perhaps in time, Australia would have unknowingly become a different nation; A creature that was no longer of its true essence. A nation that would have had to swear for something that it did not really believe in.
****
Since the beginning of the war she had been a sounding board for him. A Polish fighter pilot keeping an ear open for an Australian soldier.
Early in the war he hadn’t even really known what he was doing, and in fact during the middle stretch – and even occasionally late on - he was unsure of exactly what was real. War can do that, but it can also, eventually, make things totally clear too.
About what is more real than anything else.
So now, almost six years on from there initial encounter, he had confided in her about a project that he was embarking on; one that he had told nobody about. With the storm into Germany full steam ahead, he – and his unit – was about to traipse into civilian territory. He knew that he was going to be involving children in something that was well, harshly adult; yet he was adamant that it was the right thing to do, and this he explained to the pilot in profound detail.
He even made mention of how he would consider a stop off in London; as a weird kind of celebration I guess. Only he would need an invitation obviously.
She didn’t reply. But still she listened. And that would be important. Important for later.
The final push into Germany was an approximate nine month project, but even to get to that point had resulted in complications, with battles of the bulge and so forth. Cracking codes was a good start, but continuing on from that theme, the allies really had to use their imagination to make even greater advances. Like snails they slid forward, using their initiative to find new ways to make progress. And like a surfboard they were making waves.
He wouldn’t talk much about actual Germany though. That was still too close to his heart.
A great strength of the Australian soldier was an ability to see things from another perspective. He never once had ill feeling about his apparent opposition. He knew that what had happened to Germany – with Hitler – was quintessentially beyond her control. Given the same circumstances it could have happened to Australia too. And that’s scary. Because Germans – like everyone else – are generally good people. In actual fact they can be the bestest.
And post Germany he went through some periods of questioning. Just why had they penetrated Germany; penetrated her so soon? Because others would have surely come later, and perhaps by then, the defenceless part of Germany would be better able to handle such invasion?
It was sometime later and the war was over. The Australian soldier was beginning to forgive himself a little more for the apparent atrocities – even Germany (with the smoke from all that gunfire now clearing all around her) was in the process of full forgiveness (everything shall be fine in the end, remember that even the Berlin Wally would eventually come crashing down) - but perhaps it was difficult to forgive himself fully without being given the okay by a certain someone. Only he had no idea of that until she spoke. He must have caught her at a weak moment.
“You’re very sweet writer boy,” she said. There wasn’t a whole heap more, but there didn’t need to be. She didn’t see him as some kind of monster. She understood completely.
“You’re such a beautiful woman,” he uttered. “Yet you’re still single?”
“Of course,” she answered.
“How about you marry me, keep your name, and we will have a JK Rowlerson!” he half joked.
She smiled. How could she not? “I am a knowledgeable woman of the world. I know which battles can and cannot be won.”
There was loud silence. Because silence – as far as I can tell – often says more than sound.
“Do you think that there will be more wars?” he asked.
“There will always be wars I think,” she said wisely. “For humans are biologically born to fight. Nevertheless, doesn’t it make it all oh so meaningful.”
The Australian nodded his head in full agreement.
****
Disclaimer: Apologies for the lack of specific details in this story and subsequent offence to any World War 2 freaks out there. But this was told through the eyes of a young girl, who was of an age when all of the little things don’t matter quite so much.
She also couldn’t be bothered doing much research. Perhaps in the years ahead she will re-write this up to be a much more comprehensive piece of prose.
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Wed Jun 19, 2013 1:40 pm
THREE OR FOUR GHOSTS IN BLUE CITY - PART FOUR
“There is something that I do not understand,” I began. “Because you grew up, and became a ghost, you can go anywhere you like. So why do you choose to stay here? It seems a little cramped.”
“I prefer to think of it as cosy.”
“But there is soooo much to see out there in the real world,” I said strenuously.
“And what is so good about the real world?” the leopard questioned, though clearly rhetorically.
“Well for one, whilst in here you never get to see Mr Yellow and hear his message of vital importance.”
“And what might that be?”
“That no matter what happens, always try to be happy, happy, happy, happy.”
“That’s a rather lovely message indeedy. But our existence and happiness is largely based around the creatures around us, not around the landscapes that we make our footprint. I guess I am not very aboriginal in my thinking.”
“But you are original!” I interrupted smirk-inducingly.
“Sometimes yes, but assisted by those around me. Greatly. Those who influence.” Meo paused. “Now think about what you have been asking. Why would I wish to be anywhere else in the world when you are using me as a pillow?”
It was rhetorical question central.
Later we played various card games, which included poker. “It has been said that poker is the game of life. A combination of the cards you are dealt, and the decisions that you make with those cards.”
“What a lovely phrase,” I complimented.
“It’s not mine,” acknowledged Meo. “And yes I like it too, but lately I’ve been starting to question it a little.”
“In what way?”
“Well, I believe that I have been dealt quite a wonderful hand, but I’m not sure that the decisions are all mine.”
“You keep being swindled on the river?”
“Kinda. But it’s okay. I’ll keep playing and the cards are sure to come up trumps for me at some stage.”
“You wish!”
“Stop it!”
Suddenly we both saw it. A brilliant blue butterfly was in our midst. Meo gazed at it as if it was the most perfect and precious creature she had ever seen. I would have expected a loving gaze at perhaps a beefy brown buffalo, but no, this leopard appeared to be a little out of the ordinary.
“How breathtaking!” she screamed in wonder. “I have never seen one of these before.” The creature of flight now approached the great cat and danced. It was like some delightful dream. Meo paused, appearing to ponder. “It must have entered the enclosure with you! Now I really can be happy, happy, happy happy.”
“But the butterfly will surely die soon,” I stammered nervously. “And this is so sad.”
“Absolutely,” Meo concurred. “But once a butterfly has flapped its wings at you it will forever sing in your heart. And there is nothing sad about that.”
“There is something that I do not understand,” I began. “Because you grew up, and became a ghost, you can go anywhere you like. So why do you choose to stay here? It seems a little cramped.”
“I prefer to think of it as cosy.”
“But there is soooo much to see out there in the real world,” I said strenuously.
“And what is so good about the real world?” the leopard questioned, though clearly rhetorically.
“Well for one, whilst in here you never get to see Mr Yellow and hear his message of vital importance.”
“And what might that be?”
“That no matter what happens, always try to be happy, happy, happy, happy.”
“That’s a rather lovely message indeedy. But our existence and happiness is largely based around the creatures around us, not around the landscapes that we make our footprint. I guess I am not very aboriginal in my thinking.”
“But you are original!” I interrupted smirk-inducingly.
“Sometimes yes, but assisted by those around me. Greatly. Those who influence.” Meo paused. “Now think about what you have been asking. Why would I wish to be anywhere else in the world when you are using me as a pillow?”
It was rhetorical question central.
Later we played various card games, which included poker. “It has been said that poker is the game of life. A combination of the cards you are dealt, and the decisions that you make with those cards.”
“What a lovely phrase,” I complimented.
“It’s not mine,” acknowledged Meo. “And yes I like it too, but lately I’ve been starting to question it a little.”
“In what way?”
“Well, I believe that I have been dealt quite a wonderful hand, but I’m not sure that the decisions are all mine.”
“You keep being swindled on the river?”
“Kinda. But it’s okay. I’ll keep playing and the cards are sure to come up trumps for me at some stage.”
“You wish!”
“Stop it!”
Suddenly we both saw it. A brilliant blue butterfly was in our midst. Meo gazed at it as if it was the most perfect and precious creature she had ever seen. I would have expected a loving gaze at perhaps a beefy brown buffalo, but no, this leopard appeared to be a little out of the ordinary.
“How breathtaking!” she screamed in wonder. “I have never seen one of these before.” The creature of flight now approached the great cat and danced. It was like some delightful dream. Meo paused, appearing to ponder. “It must have entered the enclosure with you! Now I really can be happy, happy, happy happy.”
“But the butterfly will surely die soon,” I stammered nervously. “And this is so sad.”
“Absolutely,” Meo concurred. “But once a butterfly has flapped its wings at you it will forever sing in your heart. And there is nothing sad about that.”
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Wed Jun 19, 2013 3:53 pm
G R aka P 
( bother should be ) I can't find the Parrot! aka (these smileys are sooooooooooooooooooooo annoying now)lovely two editions that I have just caught up with.
Lai et al
I can't go through that again with the smileys!
Laikipia- Moderator
- Posts : 16153
Join date : 2010-05-13
Age : 64
Location : Cheshire
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Sat Jun 22, 2013 8:28 am
WHAT A RIDE IT’S BEEN
It was happy birthday time for one of the world’s best cyclists, Andreas Kloden, and I was a lucky soul who got to meet him. When I did so he was doing push ups, and geez, he still looked awfully fit. Despite his age.
“I am not thirty-nine!” he declared vehemently. “Merely thirty-eight. Still a young buck,” he joked.
“No strong & stylish rider, I meant best wishes for your thirty-ninth year, which is the year ahead. I would never forget what you age is Klodi.”
“Never fail to remember?”
“That’s correct.”
We chatted amicably for a little while, perhaps only two minutes, but it seemed longer.
“You are such a big fan of me,” he said with what seemed surprise. “May I ask why?”
“Well when I first started to take a grand interest in the stars on a few week journey, you happened to be right there, shining the brightest. I could have started taking a real interest five, even ten years earlier; in which case it would have been a different rider that I was first a fan of.”
“That makes some sense,” he nodded.
“But it wasn’t just timing. I love that you have always flown up the climbs with real polish.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look good when you fly,” I explained to him.
“Which is virtually always.”
“Exactly.”
We both smirked a little. But now it was time to go our separate ways (his phone rang; probably had to get back to work; get back to training). Life circumstances unfortunately.
“I can always email you,” I said. “What is your address? I bet it’s something like andykloden@hotmail.com.”
“It is indeed,” he replied in that so-called serious German tone, not even displaying outward surprise or adorance at my tremendous guess, or possible king stalkery. “Send me an email anytime you like,” he uttered casually. This was talking without thinking obviously, for he was now in danger of receiving quite a number of emails.
“Well, good luck with that pole position come July. May the force be with you.” This seemed like the appropriate way to sign off. He was a star.
“Pole position? Aren’t we talking cycling not formula one?”
“Obviously. But you’re still pretty quick off the mark Andreas. Even after all these years. You’re like a fine wine.”
“Better with age.” He smiled. And I did too. Because I knew that I had put that smile on his face.
It was happy birthday time for one of the world’s best cyclists, Andreas Kloden, and I was a lucky soul who got to meet him. When I did so he was doing push ups, and geez, he still looked awfully fit. Despite his age.
“I am not thirty-nine!” he declared vehemently. “Merely thirty-eight. Still a young buck,” he joked.
“No strong & stylish rider, I meant best wishes for your thirty-ninth year, which is the year ahead. I would never forget what you age is Klodi.”
“Never fail to remember?”
“That’s correct.”
We chatted amicably for a little while, perhaps only two minutes, but it seemed longer.
“You are such a big fan of me,” he said with what seemed surprise. “May I ask why?”
“Well when I first started to take a grand interest in the stars on a few week journey, you happened to be right there, shining the brightest. I could have started taking a real interest five, even ten years earlier; in which case it would have been a different rider that I was first a fan of.”
“That makes some sense,” he nodded.
“But it wasn’t just timing. I love that you have always flown up the climbs with real polish.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look good when you fly,” I explained to him.
“Which is virtually always.”
“Exactly.”
We both smirked a little. But now it was time to go our separate ways (his phone rang; probably had to get back to work; get back to training). Life circumstances unfortunately.
“I can always email you,” I said. “What is your address? I bet it’s something like andykloden@hotmail.com.”
“It is indeed,” he replied in that so-called serious German tone, not even displaying outward surprise or adorance at my tremendous guess, or possible king stalkery. “Send me an email anytime you like,” he uttered casually. This was talking without thinking obviously, for he was now in danger of receiving quite a number of emails.
“Well, good luck with that pole position come July. May the force be with you.” This seemed like the appropriate way to sign off. He was a star.
“Pole position? Aren’t we talking cycling not formula one?”
“Obviously. But you’re still pretty quick off the mark Andreas. Even after all these years. You’re like a fine wine.”
“Better with age.” He smiled. And I did too. Because I knew that I had put that smile on his face.
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
Join date : 2012-11-22
Age : 43
Location : Melbourne
Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Sun Jun 23, 2013 6:03 am
THREE OR FOUR GHOSTS IN BLUE CITY – PART FIVE
She glanced away from the butterfly and gazed directly at me. She placed her paws tenderly into my hands. The paws looked so powerful, but right now they felt so tender. As fragile as float glass.
“You have been the only one who has been able to come really close to me. The others had to look through bars, and they could not.”
“I see. I think. I mean, how do you know?”
“Hmmmm….questioning is good my darling,” the loveable leopard pondered. “Because yeah, sometimes we don’t know what is real. We can’t. Not for 100% certain. But that doesn’t necessarily make it any lesser.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. One day you will. One day you will know too.”
“You are starting to sound more and more like some wise wizard! Maybe you are not even real, oh ghostly one!” I smiled inside. I realised - right then – that it did not matter.
“It’s what you believe that is more important anyhoo. But well, certainly it can be most difficult to determine what is real and what is fantasy. Particularly when one has been through some unimaginable pain.”
“Pain? You have been through this Meo?”
“Well, to travel from Stuttgart to Melbourne is not easy,” she said, as if she had had to swim across all of those harsh waters taking hits from heavy waves, rather than by sitting apparently peacefully on a plane with head on a pillow pet.
“Having to make lengthy journeys all on your lonesome is debilitating for any creature,” she continued. “So difficult that one can even become insane. There is no escape from that. It is a rule that we - once we have seen the bars - are all forced to abide by.”
“But you’re a leopard!” I cried. “The Queen of Solitude!”
“Even so, a snow leopard will walk through walls for a little companionship. But always remember this: It is not the most important thing to be able to lay claim to the love of someone. The most important thing is that you are receiving quality interaction from loveable creatures. For as long as one has this then one can never be too depressed. No matter what.”
“Any other tips for me in the pursuit of happiness?”
“Always make plans. Always have goals.”
“And dreams?”
“Yes, we should always dream. Even when we have lost our innocence. Even when we are wide awake.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was all a lot to take in. The way that the cat sat just now was almost more dog like. Bloody profound pooch!
Later we played around joyously; in the form of a poke fight.
But from kinda out of nowhere, Meo let out a scream of pain. “Watch yourself with those nails my dear.” She brushed across some fur, and there it was; blood. I had cut the great cat.
“Many can excite and inspire me to have a poke fight nowadays, but you’re the only one who can hurt me.” She paused, showing a face that appeared sad and happy at the same time, though as well as all of that, immensely satisfied. It was a full face. “The only one,” Meo repeated in whisper.
And I was really such a dainty character. There was next to nothing of me, even when I was wearing my winter coat. Yet apparently I could hurt.
And I was starting to feel a little different. I wasn’t quite the same as before. “My red blob is in hibernation,” I uttered. I didn’t know of how else to put it. But things were beyond my control.
“Speaking of slumbers, I entered the comp at Werribee Zoo, and something hit me.”
“What my dear beary?”
“That of my twenty-three friends, if I had to choose to hang out with just you or the other twenty-two, I’d choose you. Still.”
“Oh, you are a sick sparrow.”
“But if you keep away from me then this will likely snailishleyyyy change in time.”
“I know.”
“Thanky.”
It was getting dark, so I decided to play fortunately/unfortunately with her. But she didn’t understand the game and so I wasn’t able to go out on the apt note that “unfortunately I have to leave now”. So she kept me there just that little bit longer, until the sun went down.
“You mentioned the importance of belief before Meo,” I began. “Would you care to explain this degree of importance further?”
“It is not most important what is real, but it is most important what you believe.”
“But that doesn’t make the least bit of sense!” I shouted. This was a cookie cat indeedy. “What is real is surely all that matters.”
“No it isn’t my boy. For you might not always believe in what is real, but whatever it is you believe in is always what will influence you, and thus influence others.”
“But why wouldn’t you believe in what is real?”
“Maybe the reality isn’t worth believing in,” she said succinctly.
“Oh.” I was a little lost for words. “But you will believe in what is real once the reality is worthwhile? Once your dreams match your wishes.” I surprised myself. I hadn’t posed the latter as a question.
The leopard smiled and nodded.
It seemed like I spent months in that enclosure. Who could really tell though? Didn’t you know that time ceases to matter when your life is a ball? And this one had to be the most grandest of galas. No matter what.
It was time. “I would like to say Meo, that this has all been awfully heart-rending.”
“Heart-rending? Are you really a boy? Because I haven’t heard of many boys who use this term.”
“Of course I’m a boy! Don’t be so awesomely ridiculous!”
“But who are you in spirit?”
I stepped out into the sunshine. I checked my phone. The world wide web was back. I felt normal....kinda. As normal as one could feel after an experience such as that I guess. I looked and smirked at people as they wandered by, and they appeared to look right through me. Could they even see me now?
I looked back at Meo, but I had to leave as it was closure. My adventure had been the most furrtastic of ones so I purred.
Would I have it now too?
On the drive back I kept coming back to that phrase that I’d said without thinking, awfully heart-rending. Taken at face value, it was a double negative. But I knew it all to be anything but. Not many would be able to understand.
When I arrived home I was super doper keen to write, for what grand tales of wonder I had to tell! However, I wasn’t able to get straight into my writing documents as windows had restarted without my permission. Computers these days do their own thing apparently, and although a tad annoyed I also laughed, thinking of how it had for all intents and purposes told me where to go. Bloody windows eight…and her friends seven and nine. Fragile windows indeed. Some birds have permission to just fly right on through inside. Word.
She glanced away from the butterfly and gazed directly at me. She placed her paws tenderly into my hands. The paws looked so powerful, but right now they felt so tender. As fragile as float glass.
“You have been the only one who has been able to come really close to me. The others had to look through bars, and they could not.”
“I see. I think. I mean, how do you know?”
“Hmmmm….questioning is good my darling,” the loveable leopard pondered. “Because yeah, sometimes we don’t know what is real. We can’t. Not for 100% certain. But that doesn’t necessarily make it any lesser.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. One day you will. One day you will know too.”
“You are starting to sound more and more like some wise wizard! Maybe you are not even real, oh ghostly one!” I smiled inside. I realised - right then – that it did not matter.
“It’s what you believe that is more important anyhoo. But well, certainly it can be most difficult to determine what is real and what is fantasy. Particularly when one has been through some unimaginable pain.”
“Pain? You have been through this Meo?”
“Well, to travel from Stuttgart to Melbourne is not easy,” she said, as if she had had to swim across all of those harsh waters taking hits from heavy waves, rather than by sitting apparently peacefully on a plane with head on a pillow pet.
“Having to make lengthy journeys all on your lonesome is debilitating for any creature,” she continued. “So difficult that one can even become insane. There is no escape from that. It is a rule that we - once we have seen the bars - are all forced to abide by.”
“But you’re a leopard!” I cried. “The Queen of Solitude!”
“Even so, a snow leopard will walk through walls for a little companionship. But always remember this: It is not the most important thing to be able to lay claim to the love of someone. The most important thing is that you are receiving quality interaction from loveable creatures. For as long as one has this then one can never be too depressed. No matter what.”
“Any other tips for me in the pursuit of happiness?”
“Always make plans. Always have goals.”
“And dreams?”
“Yes, we should always dream. Even when we have lost our innocence. Even when we are wide awake.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was all a lot to take in. The way that the cat sat just now was almost more dog like. Bloody profound pooch!
Later we played around joyously; in the form of a poke fight.
But from kinda out of nowhere, Meo let out a scream of pain. “Watch yourself with those nails my dear.” She brushed across some fur, and there it was; blood. I had cut the great cat.
“Many can excite and inspire me to have a poke fight nowadays, but you’re the only one who can hurt me.” She paused, showing a face that appeared sad and happy at the same time, though as well as all of that, immensely satisfied. It was a full face. “The only one,” Meo repeated in whisper.
And I was really such a dainty character. There was next to nothing of me, even when I was wearing my winter coat. Yet apparently I could hurt.
And I was starting to feel a little different. I wasn’t quite the same as before. “My red blob is in hibernation,” I uttered. I didn’t know of how else to put it. But things were beyond my control.
“Speaking of slumbers, I entered the comp at Werribee Zoo, and something hit me.”
“What my dear beary?”
“That of my twenty-three friends, if I had to choose to hang out with just you or the other twenty-two, I’d choose you. Still.”
“Oh, you are a sick sparrow.”
“But if you keep away from me then this will likely snailishleyyyy change in time.”
“I know.”
“Thanky.”
It was getting dark, so I decided to play fortunately/unfortunately with her. But she didn’t understand the game and so I wasn’t able to go out on the apt note that “unfortunately I have to leave now”. So she kept me there just that little bit longer, until the sun went down.
“You mentioned the importance of belief before Meo,” I began. “Would you care to explain this degree of importance further?”
“It is not most important what is real, but it is most important what you believe.”
“But that doesn’t make the least bit of sense!” I shouted. This was a cookie cat indeedy. “What is real is surely all that matters.”
“No it isn’t my boy. For you might not always believe in what is real, but whatever it is you believe in is always what will influence you, and thus influence others.”
“But why wouldn’t you believe in what is real?”
“Maybe the reality isn’t worth believing in,” she said succinctly.
“Oh.” I was a little lost for words. “But you will believe in what is real once the reality is worthwhile? Once your dreams match your wishes.” I surprised myself. I hadn’t posed the latter as a question.
The leopard smiled and nodded.
It seemed like I spent months in that enclosure. Who could really tell though? Didn’t you know that time ceases to matter when your life is a ball? And this one had to be the most grandest of galas. No matter what.
It was time. “I would like to say Meo, that this has all been awfully heart-rending.”
“Heart-rending? Are you really a boy? Because I haven’t heard of many boys who use this term.”
“Of course I’m a boy! Don’t be so awesomely ridiculous!”
“But who are you in spirit?”
I stepped out into the sunshine. I checked my phone. The world wide web was back. I felt normal....kinda. As normal as one could feel after an experience such as that I guess. I looked and smirked at people as they wandered by, and they appeared to look right through me. Could they even see me now?
I looked back at Meo, but I had to leave as it was closure. My adventure had been the most furrtastic of ones so I purred.
Would I have it now too?
On the drive back I kept coming back to that phrase that I’d said without thinking, awfully heart-rending. Taken at face value, it was a double negative. But I knew it all to be anything but. Not many would be able to understand.
When I arrived home I was super doper keen to write, for what grand tales of wonder I had to tell! However, I wasn’t able to get straight into my writing documents as windows had restarted without my permission. Computers these days do their own thing apparently, and although a tad annoyed I also laughed, thinking of how it had for all intents and purposes told me where to go. Bloody windows eight…and her friends seven and nine. Fragile windows indeed. Some birds have permission to just fly right on through inside. Word.
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Sun Jun 23, 2013 9:42 am
I will have to do these 2 justice later in haste and a quick catch up after a couple of days absence 
Mrs Kipia
Mrs Kipia
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Mon Jun 24, 2013 2:34 pm
No need Mrs Kipia....I was just kinda cleaning out my writing closet
Maybe will be free to fly again soon on TSP. Maybe during the Tour De France? If I let it go for much longer it might get stale, but also the break may have done me and it some good, so we shall see.
I think I still wish to explore more of the Summer, Weggy, Breezyweezy, Kristina, etc crew.
And of course there shall be a Mrs Kipia
GR 
Maybe will be free to fly again soon on TSP. Maybe during the Tour De France? If I let it go for much longer it might get stale, but also the break may have done me and it some good, so we shall see.
I think I still wish to explore more of the Summer, Weggy, Breezyweezy, Kristina, etc crew.
And of course there shall be a Mrs Kipia
GR
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Mon Jun 24, 2013 5:06 pm
GR - that's funny. I am still behind, I never seem to catch up. Why is it work gets in the way ? 
Lai
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Wed Jun 26, 2013 1:35 pm
Yesterday evening after work and food shopping I sat down and reopened some works of TSP, and set about writing some new notes. I have a couple more new characters in mind, and some ideas over the previous day or so I jotted down, as potential scenes of conversation. It was almost two pages, so a good start to getting back into it. In actual fact the WAA might be directly or indirectly responsible for four character links to TSP (though two of these characters were already going to be in the book, just in a different way), so this is great! But still no idea yet about whether I can write another book for it. Just see how I go.Okay, letting Leaping Leo back in now, and then off to
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Wed Jun 26, 2013 1:45 pm
GR - that sounds good news. I am still going to read the above posts and finish TSP which I am half way through - I need more hours in a day Lai
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
Laikipia Wed Jun 26, 2013 6:45 pm
GR - caught up with both, and particularly enjoyedTHREE OR FOUR GHOSTS IN BLUE CITY – PART FIVE - you have a seriously wild imagination which goes off on all sort of tangents - in a good way
WHAT A RIDE IT’S BEEN - where did this spring from? I don't remember this from before, so is it just a quick short story?
You must find it hard to sleep at night with all these thoughts spinning round in your head
s 
Mrs Kipia et al
E
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Re: Forum Fiction - Merry Xmas!
gregrowlerson Sat Jun 29, 2013 5:50 am
NOT MANY (another ghost story)
Some serious zoning out (or in, still haven't worked out which is the more apt term) just took place. I was in my car. Fortunately this activity is not nearly as dangerous as texting. Well if it was, then I would have been six feet under long ago.
I was on cloud nine, though not necessarily feeling it. And then I was asked the following question. By nobody at all in particular.
"If you had one minute left to live, and magic could place you in any position and circumstance to live that minute exactly how you wanted to, what would you decide to do?"
I must confess that the question wasn't exactly that wordy. I can't remember it word for word as I type now, but that was the gist of it.
"I would look at her, stare at her in awe. Then I would take the steps towards her that would allow us to briefly nose nuzzle. Finally, I would wrap her up in a big bear hug. And there, with my eyes closed, you could kill me, and I would die happy."
"No kisses?"
"We went beyond kisses. Nothing can ever be the same. Besides, kissing would take time away from the hugging, and it's the hugs that are the most important."
"What about a gentle hold?"
"No, that wouldn't suffice. It has to be a hug. Because a hug can be performed with real force. With real warmth. Not that a hold can't be warming, but a hug can be huge. It can be powerful."
I sat there - on the cloud obviously - and slowly begin to smile. It was after I had already said it all; after these images - or dreams - had registered in my mind. Because what happened then, was that the reality of moments - the most precious moments - flashed through me. In a moment of 100% clarity, I remembered.
"I got to actually live my dream. How many others really get to do that?"
Time will tell. It always does. Right now it is telling me hippo heapsY.
Some serious zoning out (or in, still haven't worked out which is the more apt term) just took place. I was in my car. Fortunately this activity is not nearly as dangerous as texting. Well if it was, then I would have been six feet under long ago.
I was on cloud nine, though not necessarily feeling it. And then I was asked the following question. By nobody at all in particular.
"If you had one minute left to live, and magic could place you in any position and circumstance to live that minute exactly how you wanted to, what would you decide to do?"
I must confess that the question wasn't exactly that wordy. I can't remember it word for word as I type now, but that was the gist of it.
"I would look at her, stare at her in awe. Then I would take the steps towards her that would allow us to briefly nose nuzzle. Finally, I would wrap her up in a big bear hug. And there, with my eyes closed, you could kill me, and I would die happy."
"No kisses?"
"We went beyond kisses. Nothing can ever be the same. Besides, kissing would take time away from the hugging, and it's the hugs that are the most important."
"What about a gentle hold?"
"No, that wouldn't suffice. It has to be a hug. Because a hug can be performed with real force. With real warmth. Not that a hold can't be warming, but a hug can be huge. It can be powerful."
I sat there - on the cloud obviously - and slowly begin to smile. It was after I had already said it all; after these images - or dreams - had registered in my mind. Because what happened then, was that the reality of moments - the most precious moments - flashed through me. In a moment of 100% clarity, I remembered.
"I got to actually live my dream. How many others really get to do that?"
Time will tell. It always does. Right now it is telling me hippo heapsY.
gregrowlerson- Posts : 1733
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