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Hereford Eye
March 22nd, 2003, 04:29 PM
Third door on the right, top of the stairs, strange symbols carved thereon. Looks like a baby's rattle opposed to a tombstone, a tiara above a ring, all embossed on a rainbowed circle, the colors blending and separating all round the device. As HE opens the door, a curious gravelly voice entones words heard long ago: "man, woman, life, death, infinity"
HE enters into a misty corridor, reminiscent of some of the more troublesome times in another venue. The door closes behind him softly, finally. Attempting the handle lights a small neon notice: "You need a key". Sure enough, the door handle sports a key hole. Equally sure enough, HE does not have the key.
Some decisions are easier than others. The decision to venture down the corridor makes more sense than standing by the door in futile defiance of the sign.
Misty corridors demand strange happenings. Even in the most trite, cliched novels, if strange things do not happen in misty corrdiors, the reader feels cheated. The corridor is not a cheat. As HE paces the corridor his stride moves from competent to bold, his legs tighten with strengthened cordage, his body straightens, his hair stands on end. Not sure why the hair comes to attention but then there is much I do not understand and this corridor is just one more in a long line of such things.
Caught in the mood, HE begins to sing as he strides the corridor: "Heigh, ho! Heigh, ho! It's off to work we go." Another voice from an ancient past orders "No more drinks for the dwarf."
Every few steps, a new change occurs. A few steps added to a few steps sums to a whole lot of changes going on. Would like a mirror to see the result. Arms seem narrower, legs trimmer, hips more pronounced, chest bigger, belly smaller, center of balance shifted so that walking is less leaning forward and catching up as it is a mobile balancing act. Feet seem too tiny to handle the task.
Seem to be freshly shaved.
Hair no longer standing at attention but must have been walking a loooong time 'cause it is now to mountain man lengths, a thing I always swore to try at least once.

Hereford Eye
March 23rd, 2003, 09:04 AM
Mist continues limiting vision to things in immediate vicinity. Things like the mountain man hair. Long enough to run fingers through, grasp strands, pull forward for inspection. Stringy, clumped, needs a comb. And brown! Brown? No gray? Where'd the grey go?
Look at those hands! Drop hair which sort of falls back where it's supposed to be. No wrinkles! Smooth, not as calloused, and brown! Not suntan brown, brown brown.
Clothes haven't changed....or have they? Western riding boots are narrower. Blue jeans still fit snug.......um.....the crotch is different. Come to think of it there is a familiar weight in the crotch missing as well as the "yeah, we're still here" feeling. This cannot be good.
Shirt still flannel, slevees still partially rolled. Arms were never huge but these are positively slender. And that weight that is supposed to be in the crotch seems to have transferred itself to my chest.
Think I'll just stop and think about this for a minute.

Hereford Eye
March 23rd, 2003, 02:56 PM
Okay, this is not good! Fingertips tell me what I'd like a mirror to confirm. The body I'd grown so used to over all those years isn't the body I seem to be wearing right now. This one is definitely female. That's about as much change as can happen. Why I'm not a blubbering idiot - well, more than usual - is beyond me. What I am is curious.
My curiosity is best served by moving onwards, trying to determine what this is all about. Getting to my feet is interesting. A whole new sensation as legs thrust, back muscles support, and gluts balance. Whooeee! That's different.
Oh well, forget the prurience. Get on with it.
Step follows step and down the misty corridor we go.

Hereford Eye
March 25th, 2003, 08:54 AM
Step following step produces change. The mist begins to clear slowly revealing a grassy lea running down hill to a brook then running up the hill on the other side. Sun is shining through whispy clouds.
People here trying not to be here. Small people, a third the size of my temporary accommodations, scampering away like bowling pins from a strike.
Hard to figure what they were doing before I barged in. A couple of small pieces of cloth, well, small to me, strewn about. Small covered baskets. A picnic?
“Hey, people, people, take it easy. Don’t mean to be crashing the party.”
“Then, lower your voice,” the command comes from behind.
Spinning about – before I get to the dude behind me let me tell you about spinning about. Used to be spinning was just an exercise in turning, pivot on one foot, lift the other, wrench the pivot leg muscles. Do it too fast the worst thing that can happen is you lose your glasses. The first time you spin too fast as female you get distracted by these weights about chest high that follow merrily along behind inertia and then rebound when everything else stops. How the hell you supposed to pay attention when things like that are going on? I suppose you get used to it over a life time but I haven’t spent a lifetime yet. This is the first time and it’s downright distracting.
Commanding voice person continues with commands: “Now that you’ve lowered your voice, watch where your stepping.”
The guy is only slightly larger than me, a whole lot younger, and too damned arrogant for his own good or my tastes.
“Give me a break,” I growl. “Just got here and have no clue where here is.”
“Here is where we are. This is my place. You’re intruding.”
Nothing like a resounding welcome to make you feel at home!

March 25th, 2003, 09:59 AM
Commanding voice person continues with commands: “Now that you’ve lowered your voice, watch where your stepping.”
The guy is only slightly larger than me, a whole lot younger, and too damned arrogant for his own good or my tastes.
“Give me a break,” I growl. “Just got here and have no clue where here is.”
“Here is where we are. This is my place. You’re intruding.”

Just what I didn't need...some damn woman intruding on my space. Not today, little lady, I thought, get your pretty little air-headed butt off my turf. I didn't put it quite that way, though.
She seemed sort of feisty, growling at me in that tiny voice....I like that in my woman, like 'em to put up a bit of a fight. I was in no mood today, though......had enough nagging and bitching back home.

Had to admit, though, she was a looker......blue jeans tight over a fine pair of cheeks......longish brown hair, flannel shirt barelykeeping closed over a nice-sized chest, if you get my drift......didn't have time for a throw-down, though, still trying to figure out where the mist was coming from.....all these people.....and what in hell was that high-pitched buzz?

Hereford Eye
March 25th, 2003, 05:56 PM
So that's what it looks like, huh? The once over, quick, blatant, contemptuous. Matched perfectly with a non-answer to a legitimate question. When you see exasperation carved into this guy's face, you just know he's going to have another pearl of wisdom pounding your ears in the very immediate future. This is going to be a fun day, I can tell.
"You're just full of information, aren't you?" I say. "Don't move!" he replies. "For god's sake, look at your feet."
Okay, I look at my feet. I'm standing in the middle of a bunch of them little baskets,,,,er,,,,,I'm standing on a bunch of them little baskets. Ooops!
Fightin' the damneest urge to jump away while at the same time trying to follow instructions and stay put.
Quizzical look time and further question time: "can you just explain to me what all this",,and my hand waves at the litter on the ground..."is all about?" Of course that won't solve all the riddles. so I add for practicality's sake: "And where the hell is the place of yours supposed to be?"

March 27th, 2003, 09:29 AM
"Used to be safe from the likes of you, little girlie," I growled in response, staring disdainfully at her high-heeled feet stomping my baskets.....wait, whose baskets? What the hell is going on around these parts?

"Can't a grown man have a place he can call his own? I didn't ask for some tight-assed floozy to come traipsing - no, bouncing - her way out here to bother me!"

I sounded pretty mad, but I couldn't keep from ogling those tits....had to admit they were pretty amazing, good enough to eat. And those gams.....well, red blood runs in these veins, after all. But no time for that crap now.

"Why don't you take that little cute butt of yours and wiggle back on out of here?"
Now, what gripes my soul is, I don't really want this broad to go.
Haven't been with a woman in a while, and she's looking as good as any I've had. If only this fog or mist or whatever it is would clear out so I could see to shoot.

Hereford Eye
March 28th, 2003, 07:43 AM
Careful steps to avoid more baskets. Get to a stretch of uninhabited grassland. Time now to more adequately address the clown. C ute?! This guy is is a basket case. Butts are not 'cute'. They are many things - his is average - but they are not cute. 'Cute' is something one girl would say about another and probably not be very kind when she said it.
"Okay,your lordship, I admit I got here by the less obvious method of walking through a mist. You either belong here or you did the same thing. If you walked throught the mist, it's okay to say so. If you belong here, than we're right back to square one. Where are we and who are those little people who scattered at my approach?"
Or, on second thought, is that just an assumption I'm making. This guy was behind me. It could have been him scaring the crap out of the little folk and I just showed up at the right time in the wrong place.

March 28th, 2003, 08:33 AM
Feisty little woman....she had a point, who were all these little folks running to the four corners? Tell the truth, I hadn't paid 'em much mind when I woke up. I don't know which was weirder, waking up in this place or meeting up with her. Decided she was as confused about this whole scene as me, and may as well work together as be at one another's throat.

"Okay, lady, I'll admit I been a bit rough, and guess I'm sorry. I did work my way through some fog to get here, but I think I was asleep the whole time," I said, sort of sheepishly. I had no call to be insulting, didn't know her from Eve. "I woke up and found all these baskets and thought I was back home at the farm, picking time for purple hulls, you know."

Hereford Eye
March 28th, 2003, 09:53 AM
"Purple hulls?"
That wasn't particularly brilliant.
"Okay, I came through the Hub of the Worlds looking for adventure. Got more than I bargained for. Doesn't help to define this place.
Either we interrupted the cafeteria with our presence or we broke up the annual meeting and picnic of the 3 feet high people. Did you get a good look at any of them? I just had a glimpse of brown skin and dark hair and lots of back sides."