Harmonious_Echos

Tanuchan, that is incredible! *whew* No, I'm too tired to compete just now. But I had to mention how awesome that effort was.

I would like to hear this violin piece...it sounds like one of the great programmatic classical performances...

Oh, I love this. It feels so much like me, right now! We all lie to ourselves about how we want to do things we really don't, so they'll get done...but that doesn't mean we don't KNOW we're boing lied to. Or make us happy about it.

I, too, feel the weight of a mind too full to use. Your poem is long, but I like it.

Red sparks made Harmony think of Hell. They were beautiful, such a warm, tempting color, but so dangerous...red light, red magic, red, always the sign of danger. 'I wonder if this whole hall is red stone underneath the dust?' She wondered. Her hips still felt stiff and sore, even with the lightness enchantment, and each step was getting harder as she walked. Soon she'd have to find someplace to rest, find food, something. Muse, sniggering at her elbow at the mention of food (yes, she knew she looked fat) didn't help. Still thinking, she shifted a foot onto one of the red tiles and pushed down. Just as she'd thought, a distant clicking noise began. Her sixth sense told her whatever made that noise, it wasn't good. But it sounded a long way off, and she was just too tired to keep moving. Too hungry. Too sore. Too confused. she settled herself on the floor against the wall, put up a silence barrier between herself & Muse, and tried to think clearly. A soon as she got in a sitting position, though, her belly became a problem. It jutted out in front of her like a linen-covered hill, forcing her to sit cross-legged and straight-backed, an extremely uncomfortable position. To top it off, the instant she sat down she felt the strangest sensation she'd ever felt before--the baby inside was moving around. Small but forceful kicks and thumps, making her whole body quiver. What do I DO, she wondered--I don't know anything about babies, or having babies! All I know is magic, and how to survive... Suddenly she noticed Muse was making an awfully strong attempt to break the sound-barrier between them. Looking over When she say Harmony looking, she stopped and gestured down the dark tunnel they'd come down. Harmony dropped the sound-barrier and immediately noticed the clicking sound had grown significantly louder. A soft red glow rose from the red floor tiles beneath her feet. With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet and set off again down the passage in the opposite direction, Muse bouncing along behind, harrying her with agitated squeaks. Harmony's mind couldn't seem to grasp the situation; it kept wandering back to that mysterious rolling, kicking sensation. "Baby's awake" she thought, feeling it quiver again. What a strange, strange thing. She didn't even wonder how she got pregnant, really; it was enough to assume someone--or something--took advantage of her while she was presumed dead. Whoever it was, must be sick in the head, though. To sleep with a 'dead' elf girl, who looked like a human only 12 years old? That's like, gross. But she didn't feel angry, or even taken advantage of--just a sort of soft curiosity. She was still as much herself as she'd been before; only now, she had something more. Some ONE more, she guessed. A someone who wasn't Muse, who would have to accept her for her, for once. Not like all the other pure-blood elves or humans, who looked at her like a freak. The rising noise level in the hall broke into her thoughts, finally, and she turned with her light-staff outstretched, to see a mechanical wonder roll around the corner behind. It was all metal, 'walked' forward by rolling on a wheel of small metal feet, each shifting forward by a turning ball of some sort that acted as a gravity-center. At the sides, it held a variety of blades, which sliced through the air with deceptive slowness, turning only a hair's breadth from the walls of the hall. There was no room to let it pass. Muse screeched and lept for the ceiling, and Harmony undid the constraint on her lightness-spell. Her body floated up toward the domed ceiling, and she snugged herself in alongside a crystal light, as close as she could get. The thing was tall, too, whatever it was. At least it didn't appear to be spelled, or intelligent at all. Only meant to shred whatever was unlucky enough to be in its path. It was slow, though, and she was getting a cramp from hanging sideways along the ceiling before it had moved on enough that she could let herself back down to the floor. She noticed something else, now, too--the mech, whatever it was, was also scraping the floors and walls clean of the decay and moss, leaving them shiny and bare. Maybe it was spelled, after all--she hadn't seen any bits of dirt or filth flying around, and it hadn't been pushing a mountain of decay in front of it. But the dirt must've been going somewhere. The newly cleaned floors weren't all red, either--there was a clearly marked path in green tile, straight down the middle. And up ahead, where a death-shelf lay, the green extended to the shelf before going back to the center of the hall. A sort of safety-path, perhaps? Or maybe the red tiles were a sort of dirt-cleaning trigger, that required something a little heavier than dust & black moss to trigger them. Harmony lowered herself to the floor gently, and took a good look at the green tiles before setting her feet directly on them. Nope, no trap here. A few feet further down the hall, another branch slid off to the right, as grimy as the her hall had been before. She noted the sheared-off look of the grime and dust, and saw that it was literally about 1/2 an inch thick in places, with another 1/2 inch to an inch of moss at the corners. She wondered if she should follow the cleaner path, or take this one & risk the cleaner coming past her again to scrape this path clean, too. As she stood wondering, Muse did a backflip & landed as a white wolf, looking regal & majestic until you noticed it had wide purple eyes & a distinct lack of teeth. It started forward into the muck of the dirty hall, then abruptly stopped & barked, twice. 'This way leads to a dead end', came the thought. 'A dead end, with what looks like a door, hidden under a decoration on that side'. Muse pointed with her long white nose.

Minozil Brass....the William Tell overture. (I blame Muse's influence)

aerialist, I've already done a clown. If you had to give up one to keep the other, would you... Sleep, or eat

My faithful feathered nosegay left me; and on the rainiest nights the Blozorg comes to fondle gorgonzola in the foyer. The smell would have made fetid camels dance the can-can in long underwear...

"I'm sitting on the floor", Harmony thought. "Why am I sitting on the floor?" Oh, right--she'd dropped the light-wand, tripped over a cobblestone, and narrowly missed cracking her head open on a low ledge on her way down. Dizzily, she grasped the still-lit wand & heaved herself back up. Unaccustomed to her new weight, she swayed drunkenly & grasped the wall for support. Carefully, she leaned on it, and sat down on the ledge. She thought a moment, then plucked a few strands of her hair & braided them deftly into a wreath. Stroking it, she whispered a three-strand spell--Sure-foot, light-weight, luck. She broke off the light-weight strand halfway & pulled out the other end to ensure she wouldn't be so light she would float over the ground. She carefully twisted it back on itself to deactivate it, & tucked it in a pocket for later. Never know when you might need to float, after all. The three-strand she wrapped around her neck and activated with a Minor Wyrding knot. Steady on her feet now, she lifted the light-wand & continued down the corridor. A cluster of fireflies floated at the next bend, making a light tinkling music as they flashed & flew. "Muse!!" Harmony croaked, her voice rasping with disuse. The firefly-cluster flashed brightly, twisted, and morphed into strand of tiny bells; they jingled in unison, and Harmony felt Muse's projected ether hug her. Then it drew back, and the fireflies reappeared, forming a flashing "?!" "I know," Harmony said, "I'm pregnant. I'm still trying to figure out what happened...how I got here, where 'here' is, and how I wound up this way." "I heard that before," buzzed Muse in Harmony's mind, laughter darkening her firefly-light to purple. Harmony snorted and frowned in disagreement, but didn't argue. She'd learned arguing with Muse was exactly what Muse wanted, and it was never worth the effort. Muse would never be couth, or even sane--she was loyal and amusing, occasionally useful, and that was all. Being another side of Harmony's self didn't mean that Harmony didn't sometimes wish she could be free of Muse's more boorish tendencies. Sensing the argument wasn't going to happen, Muse turned her fireflies black and began whining her annoyance. Harmony shook her head, and waved down the hall. "come if you wish" "Like I would miss this," Muse buzzed, "a pregnant lady wandering half-naked through a bone-house. The only thing that could top that, would be a dragon made of bacon!" The fireflies suddenly began making a hissing noise, and Harmony's nostrils twitched as the scent of bacon wafted by her face. Her mouth watered, and her stomach began to growl viciously. Great, she thought, not just a pregnant lady wandering half-naked through a bone-house. A spell-supported pregnant lady, in an unknown location, with an ether-self that won't stop cracking crude jokes--and I'm hungry now, too. This is SO not funny. Muse burst out laughing as she sensed Harmony's thought, but Harmony kept walking. The floor in this part of the passage was still un-even, but in places it seemed almost to have a pattern to its shifting rise & fall of the cobbles; under the dust & black moss a few shone brightly-colored, too, a striking contrast to the walls & ceiling which were crumbling & grey. Harmony shifted some of the grimy moss with her foot, and saw a gleaming red tile flash beneath, reflecting red sparks onto the wall.

Muse, who has been sulking in a corner of the ceiling flashing disco-lights at her defeat, suddenly spots Ozymandias and flushes bright neon green. With an evil cackle & a loud **PLOIK** she transports herself within arm's reach and begins attaching as many jitterbugs as she possibly can to his cloak, shoes, and any other available spot of him. Some are obvious holograms, but others appear to be real. Finishing this, she appears to lose interest in the whole affair & mutates into a large blob of purple meringue. She then begins spinning like a top, flinging bits of herself into everyone's hair while projecting the simphonie fantastique, movement 5...the Witches' Sabbath, by Berlioz. Remarkably (or unremarkably?) this does not appear to adversely effect anyone's mood. Harmony, seeing the last of the jitterbugs thusly occupied, removes herself from the energy-netting to fling it over Ozy, thus trapping them. "Don't worry, sir", she says in a strange, many-throated voice, "One of us will have those off you and disposed of in short order". She taps a light-wand on the floor, creating a shower of sparks which stick to individual bugs & begin to burn them off.

Harmony has been asleep for a long time...due to a spell perhaps, or the darkened air of room, or perhaps the mischief of her other-self gone awry. She isn't sure. What she is sure of, is what her senses now tell her. Something has changed. But what? She looks around her at the cobweb-cluttered walls, the crumbling stone, dark bits of moss growing along the damp floor, and lets out a little sigh. Her breath rustles through the air, and as her senses flitter in, she notices she's laying on her side, in a long, dark hole in the wall--a ledge, really, a few feet above the floor. Glancing down, she sees she's covered in a soft blanket. It's made of russet velvet, a deep warm color, though nearly bare from moth-holes and nearly indistinguishable beneath the layer of dust. She sniffs, and the scents of age and decay fill her nostrils. Ugh. Carefully, (it occurs to her that her surroundings may warrant caution) she lifts a hand from the stone beneath her and raises it to push aside the soft covering. She slides first one, then both legs carefully from the hole, props herself up into a sitting position. Her head reels, but she knows from the cool air that whatever, or whoever, left her there left her clothing-less; she lifts the covering to bring it with her. Unfortunately, it crumbles when it is lifted. wiping her eyes, she thinks, Oh well, there's no one here anyway. Slowly, she slides out of the hole onto the floor, and stands, coated in dust, gazing around her. I must have been here a long time, she notes; her previously shorn hair now falls once again to her feet, covering her like a shimmering cloak. What is this strange place? Long hallways stretch behind and before, and another to her left. All the same, they bear more long shelves, some with quietly resting figures, long since turned to bleached bone and ashen flesh. A soft absence of meaning hovers over them, as if they are somewhat unreal, or simply pieces of the décor. A Bone-house? How curious. The walls and floor, and the arched ceilings rising to a clear white round lamp at regular intervals, all seemed real enough though. Might as well try one, she thinks. Nothing to be afraid of, yet. Glancing back to the hole she came from, Harmony notices a tiny basket sitting on the floor before her shelf. Bending down, she lifts the lid. A bright flash of golden light fills her face for a second, and when her eyes clear, she sees a light-wand & a long tunic of fine white linen. Naturally, she puts on the tunic, and hefts the (surprisingly heavy) light-wand...with fingers trembling in shock. She has noticed one more thing, in the brief seconds it took to turn, bend, lift the lid, remove the tunic, and slide it on. She's pregnant. Very much so.

Swathed in the depths of a mystic-energy mosquito net, Harmony watches the action with liquid eyes, sipping her drink quietly. Muse, however, tears around the room snatching jitterbugs from random corners & beaning people with them, all the while singing "Pink Elephants On Parade" at the top of her lungs...with music included. Harmony wonders if she could help Brighid, who had long since left the room... She lights a tiny spark of mystic energy at the tip of one finger & draws a tiny door in the air, and then a tiny key, and whispers a word over it. It flits away in the direction Brighid left in, humming softly. Suddenly Harmony realizes that doing this has torn a tiny hole in her netting cover. With the tiniest bit of terror lighting her eyes she whips out a golden needle and knits the threads closed...just in time. Muse materializes only milliseconds later, wielding a large, wriggling Jitterbug in each hand..all sixteen of them. She howls in rage when she sees she cannot infect Harmony...

*wonders when Muse will appear to chase that Werechicken... 'cause she will. OH YES, she will.

*grammar Nazi...'were' not 'where' in the 2nd to last line? Haha, sorry, can't help it. Two of the Nine Voices are serious perfectionists. I'd like to see more though!

Harmony strolls in looking around her mutely, trying to ignore the effervescent Muse who follows, launching herself at the rubber-egg-laying turban with banshee-like screeches of "IT'S SO FLUFFY!!". Seating her self at a corner table, she gazes out over the crowd, marveling to herself that certain persons have not yet made an appearance. "I suppose that means I'm early", she thought, "but, early for what?".

Snypuier, you are an old flatterer. *smiles* Here's one just for you. Snap and hiss, dance and flick, is it thin or is it thick? flash and slash, scratch and scrape, heaving mud, floating crepe never laugh at a live dragon hitch your horse behind the wagon little girls can lead donkeys loudest screams from smallest monkeys what is life? and what is art? see, we've known it from the start... paint or clay or words or truth, all is art, and we are proof...

That's a really rough first version...I've already re-written parts of it...but for some reason the editor won't let me change that one.

In 1066, the wheel rolled 'round, invisible became visible, the mighty Paradigm uncloaking Drums beat, feet tread to the tune of Feudal lords Until ignorance and Black Death shook them from their marble pedestals, falling, into the courts of the Great Church. Then turn again, schism, corruption, ripped the Church in twain, pursued, believers fled to foreign soil to start again; but overhead the Papal Cross, and Crown spread grasping hands. Around again, The foreign soil claimed as Hearth and Home, plowshares turned to swords, across the land and Crown and Cross, flung back across the sea, relinquished, by necessity, their hold. Then sat they down, the Leaders of us all, the Mighty Paradigm they took to heart, considered, searched, and fell upon a goal; they turned that wheel 'twards a steep uphill route, and slowed its turning, with the Power of Faith. Now I see more-- the slope's progression rises, but our Wheel has turned aside. It twists and jerks along the rocky ground off of the path, along a downhill slide --I fear I see a cliff! And yet I ride-- chained to the Mighty Paradigm, with baited breath, for, are we chained to life? Or is it death?

Wow, I could ponder on this one. Or write an entire short-story. Very nicely done!

John Cougar Mellencamp, "small town". It's not too bad.

Meh. All art is art!! Whether you read it, stare at it, listen to it, or read it...even eat it. Which I do. I don't just write poems, I bake 'art cakes' which as anyone who has tasted one will tell you, are definitely ART.

Kick. I'm told I have a killer roundhouse (as I should, I'm a brown-belt)... Ice sculpture or sugar?

Hello again beautiful people! I wrote a haiku, and I just HAD to add more to it...I know, too much of a good thing, spoils it. Can't help it...I'm just not satisfied with only 17 syllables. Twilight in the afternoon, Grey skies hint at a bitter cold; Summer's dance is done, Fall's in the wings Tying on her slippers with ribbons of gold While Winter takes a spin-- crystal-bright, she touches us all with a breathless sweetness that cuts like a knife.

Wow, a lot of dark, and grey, and cold...wonder if winter's coming? (duh). Summer's gone, Fall's in the wings, catching her breath-- as, Winter takes spin.

Snypiuer has my meaning--'lone' was to indicate they were 'lonely', pairs of lights for each lone car; but 'lonely' didn't fit so well...