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well-equipped toolbox, and a pair of ice skates. With a tear in my eye, I set off to follow his advice. If only I could restep my traces---I mean-- oh, you know what I mean! What do you expect from someone who can't even decide between present and past tense? Let's see, was there some kind of map in that all-inclusive journal of mine? I looked, and, sure enough...
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there it was, a very detailed map. I perused it carefully to get my bearings. According to the map there was a clearing just up ahead with three portals to three very different "worlds". I think to start I will take the portal that looks the warmest! I head off in search of the clearing. Once there I wandered to the portal that glowed warmly. It was pink and I could see a meadow of flowers in the distance. Ah I thought, maybe I'll get lucky and this will be a leisurely part of my quest to find George (my nephew, in case any one has forgotten why we started this, lol). I stepped thru and immediately
Last edited by oscar66 (September 23, 2013 10:49 am)
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was surrounded by a beautiful, sunlit field full of fragrant flowers, all shades of red and pink; they looked familiar, somehow, all nodding in the soft breeze, almost hypnotically, almost as though...yes, I recognized them now--they were poppies! And suddenly I fet very relaxed, felt like lying on the soft green grass and just watching the fluffy clouds above, and smelling the...
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whew I thought wrinkling my nose, what is that smell? So much for feeling relaxed. I turned slowly trying to find the source of the odour and saw in the distance a beautiful gingerbread house with smoke curling from the chimney. What! No, it couldn't be! Had I stepped into a Grimm fairy tale? Should I go towards the house or turn "tale" and run? What to do, what to do. In the end the decision was clear I
Last edited by oscar66 (September 25, 2013 5:23 pm)
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Obviously, my insatiable curiosity insisted I investigate this phenomenon! As I approached, I could tell the lovely little cottage wasn't made of real gingerbread, just the fancy decorative stuff often thought quaint. My sharp sense of smell, however, told me someone was baking, and I followed the scent, trying not to drool; it had been awhile since my chocolate bath! Timidly, I knocked on the quaintly-carved, blue painted door, which was answered amost immediately by...
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a large raccoon dressed quite neatly in a chef's hat and coat holding a large wooden spoon. " Come in come in," he said and stepped aside to let me enter. I stepped in to one of those rooms with Tardis like qualities. Much bigger on the inside than on the outside. " What brings you here? he asked. "Did you come for
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lunch? Oh, I hope so! I so seldom get company out here in the woods!"
"Uh, yeah, lunch sounds great!" I babbled, looking around in fascination. Everything: the furniture, walls, a long, winding staircase, was made of wood, intricately and artfully fashioned to look as though it had grown that way naturally. Warm, welcoming, alive--I never wanted to leave. "Um...you live here by yourself?" I asked, astounded by the space that seemed to expand infinitely.
"Oh my," said the raccoon, "Where are my manners? Let me introduce myself! I am...
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Pierre" he said with a flourish. And with a twirl of his silky whiskers he turned and escorted me to my table. I followed slowly, my mind reeling, This adventure was beginning to resemble some sort of Dali dream. I seated my self slowly and Pierre said, "Your companion will be here shortly." " My companion?" I echoed. "But I'm not expecting anyone." "Why sure you are." said Pierre. "Quaint little older gentleman, do you not remember?" Ah I thought to myself I have come full circle. I am definitely going to ask the quaint little man about
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methods of tracking kidnappers, missing nephews, and related activities. Just as the soup course arrived--French onion, if I'm not mistaken--I heard footsteps, and here he came! Down that breathtakingly carved, wooden spiral staircase, the quaint little man descended, and approached the table (of hand-carved wood, of course) eagerly. "At last! " he said, rather breathlessly. (Didn't I say the staircase was breathtaking?) "We finally meet, after missing each other so many times! And in such a perfect place! Pierre's cooking is..." here he gave a delicious little shiver of anticipation as he picked up his soup spoon. "Oh, I wonder what the entree is! Oh my! I'm afraid our discussion will have to wait a bit! This food is too delicious to be diluted with talk of a serious nature!" Here we both applied ourselves enthusiastically to the fragrant, savory soup. I was beginning to wonder if...
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it was really possible to eat yourself into a food coma. If this course was any indication of the meal to come it was going to be a distinct possibility! I wiped my lips and sat back feeling contented. Before I could even reach for my water Pierre had whipped away our bowls and presented us with steaming plates of