The Saga of Penn Vale

[Mirelly]

The Ash Mallory Blog


It seems as good a time as any to start a blog, I suppose. My name is Ash which is short for Ash, OK? I scraped up a baccalaureate from Penn State and there being not much to inspire me to go home I chose to settle here in Penn Vale. (I’m an only child and my folks were killed on their way home after dropping me off at the freshers’ reception. You think that’s a bummer? I didn’t find out until two weeks later. Something to do with administrative oversight, they said. Anyway, I got over it and the insurance money sure came in handy.)

Let me tell you about Penn Vale, in case you haven’t heard about it. Well, it’s a new suburb of Pennfield. The old state capital is growing like a mould on a week-old pie; it also smell’s as bad too when the wind blows from direction of the glue factory. Anyway the city fathers, in their speculative wisdom chose the valley, here, as an area ripe for expansion. I heard the mayor owned all the farms up here and she made a serious killing over the sale of the land. Anyway it’s a right nice ‘hood and the air is clean. The soil is also rich-looking and that suits me because I hope to find out if I inherited my mum’s green fingers. I've got quite a nice sunny back yard and it seems a waste not to grow some food and stuff. Hey! I might even get a dog.

Well that’ll be enough for now. I haven’t yet unpacked all my stuff and I’m expecting AKIE to deliver my new furniture in an hour or so. Hopefully, I’ll find time to get out later and explore a bit. There’s a couple of business lots I want to check out before dark. It’s always good to know where one can lay hands on a bag of sugar or a magazine without trekking out to those ghastly strip malls.

[Mirelly]

Well I’ve arrived, dear diary. The taxi dropped me at the address I’d been given and, frankly, it didn’t look all that I’d been led to expect. For a start there was a large pile of mangled wreckage on the front garden. Ominously it was still smouldering slightly and fizzing sparks. Still, beggars can’t be choosers and I have to live somewhere. I sure can’t afford a place of my own and renting down in the city is out of the question. So lodgings it is for the time being, at least I have a nice room and the landlord’s family keep pretty much to themselves

I don’t expect I’ll see much of them anyway. I start work at the school tomorrow. This is a stupid country. I mean I have a decent degree but just because I didn’t get it here, I am apparently required to start at the bottom and work my way up. I wonder what a classroom assistant actually has to do. Hope I don’t have to work with that creep of a head teacher, he eats like a pig.

I better wrap this up. Looks like the landlord is back home. Looks like he’s been to a funeral ….

[Mirelly]

Well my furniture arrived and as soon as the van had gone a bunch of neighbours showed up. Nosey buggers. I mean I’m as neighbourly as the next guy but I like to think I know when is not a good time to visit. There I am up to my ears in corrugated card and polystyrene and polythene bags trying to figure out how to match up Part 23 with the slot in Part 71 – blasted self-assembly Swedish furniture – and here’s this guy, with a nose like a Concorde, getting in the way and asking if I got the weather channel on the TV. In the end, I just ignored him. He left after a while. The other two neighbours weren’t quite so bad. Pete Ottomas has a house only a block away from me. There was also a woman called Marisa; I didn’t find out too much about her. She seemed a bit stand-offish, either that or she’s a bit shy. She’s also very blonde and not at all my type.

Pete seems like a decent enough sort of fella but he got called away, not long after he arrived, so we didn’t get to talk a whole lot. He got a call on his cell-phone, and to judge by his expression the news wasn’t good. I hope things are OK for him. I might go around there later.

[Mirelly]

Well the good news is that I’m too good be a classroom assistant. I’ve been given a lively classroom full of little kids. One of them is my landlord’s daughter. I can’t say I think it’s a great idea to be teaching a kid that I live with, even though little Sharla is a sweet little kid, but I laid it out straight for her. At home I am Brighton, the lodger, but at school I am strictly Miss Mayes and she’ll forget that at her peril.

All the same I do feel for the poor kid, because the bad news is that my landlord, Peter, actually was coming home from a funeral the other day. It was his wife who’d died. That big pile of junk in the front yard had apparently just fallen out of the sky and crushed as flat as a bug. As if that wasn’t bad enough the poor woman was pregnant with twins. It’s lucky he has his mother living in or I fear he might’ve expected me to help out with the child care … he’s got that, you know, slightly olde-worlde chauvinist air about him.

Well I better sign off. I promised to show Sharla how to bait a fish hook after supper. I forgot to mention that we’ve got a really great little fishing pool and old Mrs. O does a mean plate of blackened catfish when she can tear herself away from the soaps on SBN … honestly! I swear that if they showed Porta De Luca 24/7 the old dear would never sleep at all!

[Lynet]

LOL, Mirelly. It's funny. And of course, I'm eager for more. :D

[person123]

Hee, Porta de Luca. Funny. *snort*

[surprised_by_witches]

Heeyyyy, wait a minute! :eek:

How do you know it's not YOUR sims that are imaginary? :p

[suitemichelle]

good, good! Man, I am so glad you back, Mirelly.

[Mirelly]

Poor old Pete. It must have been an awful shock, losing his wife, like that. It wasn’t even one of our satellites! According to the paper, today, the Ottomas’ will probably not even get any compensation. One funny thing was that a Simplovian diplomat showed up at Pete’s asking for the return of his country’s property. I heard the ruckus from my deck. For a while there I thought ole Pete was about to start a war.

I finally got around to taking a tour of the valley. It sure is pretty, but there’s almost nobody here. The Ottomas’ have a place out on Bridge Street, it’s a bit ramshackle, but it looks kind of homely, too. A little further out on Bridge, right by the actual bridge, in fact, there’s an old roadhouse that sells everything from TV dinners to the kind of cheap, stinky cologne that hicks like to use instead of bathing. They also serve food, mostly local caught fish and, according to the sign outside, they have a pool table and a couple a bowling lanes upstairs. I didn’t go inside the smell of fried fish and toilet-block cologne is not my idea of heaven.

I walked back past my street and on down to the grandly named Square. It’s, er, square, all right. There’s a big park in the middle that looks like a nice place for a picnic and some optimist has built a roller skating rink on one side. There’s also a little junkyard that looks fascinating — I just love rummaging in junk — and maybe I’ll find it open one day if the owner can be bothered to show up. Oh, yeah there’s also a church with one new resident resting peacefully under a stone. Poor Mrs. Ottomas, I wonder if she’ll come back and do some haunting …. The churchyard backs onto my property, I wonder if it was a good idea buying so close to a churchyard. I’m not one to believe in the supernatural, but I really don’t like the idea of ghosts.

Oh yeah. While I was out I bumped into a really cute gal who’s lodging with the Ottomas’. She told me her name was Brighton, but all I really noticed was her hair; it was like burnished copper. I was still trying to figure an angle to ask her if she fancied keeping me company for a couple of hours when she rushed off. I guess I blew it. Or maybe she’s just shy. I just hope she’s not got the hots for Pete, what with him being on the market, so to speak.

[Mirelly]

good, good! Man, I am so glad you back, Mirelly.

Thanks for that, Michelle (and everyone else). Don't forget that the blog verson has pics as well.

[Lynet]

Boy, is my face red :o . I thought the link in your signature was back to your Worldsims "Saga of Penn Vale" thread. I was waiting patiently for the illustrations. :rolleyes:

Just went to look at your REAL blog of Penn Vale. Pretty cool.

Thanks for the link to Dagmar Diaries, too. :)

[Mirelly]

LOL Would I link to myself? Here? Second thoughts, don't answer that :o

[Mirelly]

Maybe the Union of Sim States isn’t such a bad country after all. I can’t seem to help getting promoted almost every week. I’m actually starting to make some money, although I’m still a long way from ever being able to afford a place of my own. Not that I want to live alone, of course. Oh no, diary, that’s not part of the plan is it?

What I need is someone tall, dark and handsome but I’m flexible on that. Seriously I just want to meet someone kind and, well, you know, settled. Stable, is what I think mean. Maybe I should marry a horse then, ha-ha. I did bump into someone in my age bracket the other day. He fitted the appearance criteria but he seemed a bit pre-occupied. I sort of got the impression he was gearing up to ask me for a date, but he kept clamming up. I think he was blushing but he’s pretty dark-skinned and I wasn’t sure. We chatted for a bit but I had to dash away after a few minutes because I bursting for a wee. We were outside a skating place and I was so desperate I was tempted to dash inside and use their toilets but I was worried that he might get the wrong idea.

Geez. I’m such a dork. I’ll probably never see him again, or if I do he’ll have a absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and super confidant girl on his arm and I’ll just blush and scuttle off home to my spinster’s room to write in my diary. I walked by his house this afternoon — Maxoids! I sound like a stalker — and it’s a lovely looking place, quite large but not sprawling. I guess he’s not hurting for cash. I found out that he’s a roadie for one of those manufactured boy bands, so he’s away a fair bit. Pity.

[Sacharissa]

Enjoying your tale, Mirelly! Like Lynet, I didn't realize about the link to the actual blog (with pictures!) I guess I gotta pay more attention!:rolleyes:

Looking forward to that Special Story Section Josh has been teasing us with - All my favorite (Sims) writers gathered together in one place!

[Mirelly]

I am sort of spamming my own thread at the moment. I did have this semi on the back burner pre-seasons and then after Seasons came out I kept it simmering because I was waiting to see if Josh's story would appear. Meanwhile I started playing Ash and Brighton and now I can't continue with them or else I'll end up vastly out of synch with their story in prose versus their "life" in simality.

Then I decided that I might as well use my blogspot account to create a home for Penn Vale ... though using flickr.com for the pics is less than satisfactory ... :rolleyes:

The real problem with the blog style presentation for fiction is that the most recent posts are the first offered and it can be close to impossible to set up (for the traditional "Gentle Reader") so that the first unread episode is easy to find. For this reason I spit on the blog format. If writing does not have a begining, a middle and an end then I don't want to read it ... I ceratinly don't wanna read it out of order :(

[Mirelly]

If Telephone Could Tell Tales


“Hullo?”

“Oh, hello, can I speak to your Daddy, please honey.”

Eh! “I’m sorry, but I’m just the lodger and Mr. Ottomas isn’t in.”

NO! You blithering idiot! “Oh dear. I am so sorry. You must be, Brighton. We, um. We met the other day ….” Maxoids! You sound like a tongue-tied schoolboy! You’ll be gulping next.

“Oh, I thought I recognised your voice. It’s Ash, isn’t it?”

“That’s me …,” Ouch, don’t blow out down your nose like that, you’ll give the poor girl the creeps. “I er, I mean, um, it was a shame you had to dash off the other day ….”

“Yes.” Is that it? Geez, say something else, then. “Did you, um, enjoy your walk?” Is the best you can do, girl? There’s no hope for us if it is! We’re doomed to shelfdom for ever.

“Yeah it was OK. Exploring the Vale doesn’t take long, does it?”

Brighton answers with a chuckle.

I made her laugh! That’s good. Quick ask her out while you’re ahead. “Um, I was thinking of, you know, maybe going for another walk this afternoon and see if there’re any fish in that pool in Square Park. Perhaps I could pick you up, if you fancy joining me …?”

“That would be lovely.” Don’t sound so excited, it’s only a walk in the park!

“Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at 2 o’clock, then, if that’s OK.”

“Sure, erm, do you want me to get Peter to call you?”

“Eh?”

“Peter? You asked if he was in?”

Asterisks! “Oh, er, no it was nothing, I’ll catch him later.” Oh, oh, oh, lame attack warning. Kid, your excuses are past crutches, they need wheelchairs. “I’ll see ya later, then ….” Hang up quick!

“Bye—” Oh, he’s gone already.




Ash Mallory's Private Diary



I’m smitten. At least I think I am. I met this girl that I can’t stop thinking about. I wish I wasn’t so awkward with the opposite sex. I had a bad time at uni and I suppose that marks a guy. Long before the first semester was over it had gotten out that I’d lost my folks and come into a large pot of cash and before I knew what was what I was up to my ears in gold-diggers and —what was infinitely worse— a plague of bossy-knickers types looking for someone to pet and mother. I put up walls which have been pretty hard to tear down.

More by luck than judgement I finally managed to get a date with Brighton. I really was phoning her landlord (would I lie to my diary? I wouldn’t have called her honey, thinking she was Pete’s daughter, if I’d been on the pull, for one thing. Why am I trying to convince a diary for Maxissakes!)

I picked her up and we walked to Square Park. It’s not far. Nowhere in Penn Vale is very far from anywhere else. She asked me if I liked working for Banned Alive and I confessed that I’d hated every minute of pandering to the spoilt little brats. I loved the sound of her laugh as I told her the ins and outs of being a roadie to a bunch of tone-deaf jerks.

We stopped off to look through the chain-link fence at the incredible stuff in the junkyard. I now know the place bears the unlikely name of Sphinxy Bill’s Flea Market, but —like every other time I’ve passed by—it was closed and we could only gawp. I told Brighton that I wanted to buy the enormous plastic gorilla for my front lawn. She fell about laughing and told me that I had no taste and that the planning office might object and I said if it was going to do that it would have stopped Sphinxy Bill from displaying the thing in the first place and she snorted that, for all I knew they had and he was in jail for contempt; why else was his junkyard always closed? She had me there. I liked her even more for being smart as well as funny.


After playing catch with a ball we found, we had a go at fishing. We really tried hard but after a couple of hours neither of us had caught a thing. I have to admit that I’m not much of a fisherman but then I never thought catching fish was important on a date. Instead we talked and talked while we stared at our lines. I can’t believe some of things we talked about …. I started to feel like we had known each other all our lives.

We finished up, after it started to get dark, by sitting on a bench, just cuddling for warmth and swapping little jokes about the people we saw walking by. One guy, who was wearing tartan shorts, proved to be a rich source of material for us both. With almost no debate we nicknamed him “Goopy” because we thought he looked a little goofy as well as the undeniable fact that wearing plaid shorts has to be a sign of severe loopiness.

I walked her home and extracted another date. I rashly promised to wow her with my cookery. I’m going to cook up lobster thermidor; I’ve never done it before, but how hard can it be?

[Lynet]

The real problem with the blog style presentation for fiction is that the most recent posts are the first offered and it can be close to impossible to set up (for the traditional "Gentle Reader") so that the first unread episode is easy to find. For this reason I spit on the blog format. If writing does not have a begining, a middle and an end then I don't want to read it ... I ceratinly don't wanna read it out of order :(I decided to read your entire story in the blog, rather than here, and I see what you mean about how it doesn't take well to stories, unless you've been following them closely and only need to read the most recent episode. There should be a Next / Previous button.

Ash is a nice looking guy. It's funny, but in RL I don't go for the unshaven look at all :yuck: , but on sim guys, it's a turn on. :drool:

Things are going too smoothly for Ash and Brighton. I'm getting nervous. :bitelip:

[surprised_by_witches]

I'm enjoying this story very much! More, please. :)

[Mirelly]

Curio Dealer Hits Town

We can report that rumours Penn Vale is to be home to a business dealing in used items, bric-a-brac, and curios are true. Long time resident of Pennfield, Guilliam Giza, has moved his home and business to our new suburb.

Guilliam, or Bill to his friends, trades as Sphinxy Bill, a nickname he says dates back years. Bill’s yard has been stocked for some weeks now but the grand opening has been delayed while he concentrated on getting his house built next door.

Bill is careful to remind patrons and passers by that his Doberman, Fonzie, is not a pet and will chase any citizens whose intentions are less than honest.

When not striking a bargain, or closing a sale, Bill loves to roller skate and play darts and he looks forward to becoming a regular at the nearby Valley Roller Rink.

Sphinxy Bills Flea Market will open its doors for the first time on Monday. Normal trading hours will be 8am-6pm Mon thru Sat, and also by private arrangement. Bill’s phone number is 888 SPHINXY, his email address is bill@pennvale.sim.

[Mirelly]

Oh dear. I think I’m in trouble. I’m supposed to be having dinner with Ash tonight but I’m getting terrible cold feet. You see, last night I went out for a walk and kind of ended up at the roller rink. Yes, I know, I am so transparent. I’d read in the paper that this Sphinxy Bill character likes to hang out there so I thought I’d go check him out for meself. Well he was there all right. Large as life and twice as hunky. And, asterisks, if he isn’t as dark and gorgeous as my Ash (yes I gotta admit it, I really fancied him like crazy …. )

Anyway, Bill was on his own and looking sort cute in a fish out of water kind of way. For a start he was a wearing suit! I mean, a suit to go roller-skating! I decided I needed to get to know this king of comedy, so I put on some skates and joined him. It wasn’t long before I knocked him flying. (I’m not good on wheels to be honest, I’m positively lethal in a car!)

Next thing I know we’re chatting away like we’ve known each other for ever. He’s very charming, but sort of odd and scruffy. That suit, for example, had a strong odour of mothball. I have to admit that if I wasn’t already nurturing someone else’s affections I might be tempted to go in for a fling. Nothing long term, but Bill is a fun person, no doubting that.

Bill said I was dangerous to skate with and that he’d take a chance on my being less hazardous with darts, instead. I am. I almost beat him. The trouble is that I was so engrossed that I failed to spot Ash arriving. When I finally did spot him I could see him scowling and trying not to look in our direction.

I must admit that Bill and I were rather badly flirting by then. To Bill’s credit he’d made a clumsy sort of pass earlier and I’d brushed him off with a simple explanation … you know, sort of, I’m not interested in that right now, kind of thing. It was no problem and we went on to have a whale of time, joking, laughing, teasing, doing silly dances to some of the dreadful golden oldies the rink was playing over the PA ….

Suddenly Ash charged over and said something to Bill. I didn’t catch what was said, but I could see Bill’s face fall and cloud over. I felt so sorry for him and I can’t think what got into Ash. Meanwhile I am so confused as to whether I really want to go and have dinner with Ash, now. I mean jealousy is sort of nice when you think about on one level, but jealous people don’t really get over it, do they?

I wish I had someone to talk to ....

[Mirelly]

Ash is a nice looking guy. It's funny, but in RL I don't go for the unshaven look at all :yuck: , but on sim guys, it's a turn on. :drool:


That is soo worrying and yet so understandable :rolleyes:

[Mirelly]

There’s no way I’m putting this down in print where anyone might read it. I’ve blown it. This is how it went.

I went down to the roller rink to see what the place was like, and, yeah, I thought I might take a turn or two around the floor to see if I could stay upright, cos I thought it might be a fun place to take Brighton. Only Brighton was already there. And she was with that Giza fella who owns the junkyard.

Until now I thought I wasn’t the jealous type. But, well, he was flirting with her outrageously and she seemed oblivious; could she be that innocent? She puts herself over as quite worldly but I’m not so sure …. And besides the big galoot was wearing the most old-fashioned, heavy-weight, woollen suit I ever saw. Part of me was aghast that she could bear to spend time with him, while another part just thought how terrific she is to spare him some of her time. I just watched and watched and, although I tried hard not to, I just got crosser and madder. If I’d only had the idea I could’ve asked her to come with me and we would’ve been having fun together. Asterisking Maxoids! Why am I such a total doofus?

I just sat there, fuming and what was worse I could see she hadn’t even noticed I was in the building. I kept getting up and moving to a different spot with the stupid idea that she would see me and come rushing over to invite me to join them … as if! Then, before I knew how it had happened, I became acutely aware of the fact that she had seen me. Worse than that (if worse than that is possible) I quickly realised that she could see I was … shall we say: annoyed. It did not take long for me to realise there wasn’t the slightest chance of her coming over to ask me to join them. I could tell she was pretending to be unaware I was there.

I spent the next half an hour going through agonies of indecision. I just wanted to make things better but I couldn’t work out how. I also wanted to cut Bill out of the equation because—curse my slowness—I really like Brighton and I fear I have left it too late to make my feeling clear.

After much too much abstracted internal wrangling I leapt to my feet and to action. I marched, too smartly, across the room and managed to put myself right in front of Bill, almost nose to nose and in a hoarsely hissed whisper, I said, “I hope you know that lady is spoken for.” I can’t believe I did that. What was I thinking? As soon as I had said my piece I regretted it. I could see, by the curiously blank expression on Giza’s face that my outburst was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Inside my head, floodgates burst open and a tidal surge of potentially self-effacing excuses presented themselves for my potential use in self-preservation. They flowed over me like Katrina passing over New Orleans. In a blind funk, I turned and fled home.

I am supposed to be wining and dining that girl tonight. What the asterisk am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing happened? Maybe I could start a rumour about an evil twin ….


I am so dead.

[hugzncuddles]

Ash is a nice looking guy. It's funny, but in RL I don't go for the unshaven look at all :yuck: , but on sim guys, it's a turn on. :drool:

LOL Lynet! I'm the same - actually, beards/ moustaches positively creep me out though I don't mind a lil bit of facial hair on the sims (and on Josh Holloway of course ;) )

Mirelly, I'm loving your story a lot! I like your humour. :p I prefer to read it here though as I can follow it in the proper order and I know where I've read up to. On the blog page, I agree that it's not as easy to follow.

[Mirelly]

LOL Lynet! I'm the same - actually, beards/ moustaches positively creep me out though I don't mind a lil bit of facial hair on the sims (and on Josh Holloway of course ;) )

Mirelly, I'm loving your story a lot! I like your humour. :p I prefer to read it here though as I can follow it in the proper order and I know where I've read up to. On the blog page, I agree that it's not as easy to follow.

LOL in 3 or 4 directions.

I also hate male facial hair in real life, but facial hair for a (male) sim is the only thing that makes the poor chap look grown up. Likewise make up for female sims ... a bit of lippy and some eye-shadow can make a huge difference both to the recognisability as well to the characterisation.

Second I just Googled Josh Holloway :rolleyes: (but I'm claiming seniority :p [waaa me want dibs now!!!] ).

Third ... I'm just trine to pressurise our own Josh into action .... if I get too far into PVS I'll be too idle to transfer it :p

[hugzncuddles]

Second I just Googled Josh Holloway :rolleyes: (but I'm claiming seniority :p [waaa me want dibs now!!!] )

Ha! Sorry but I'm claiming ownership. Possession is 9/10ths of the law and all that. :p LOL Welcome to the Josh H fan club though. :p Now all ya need to do is watch the entire season 1 and 2 of LOST and get the full flavour of the man, southern drawl and all. :drool:

As for our own Josh, hand him some bug spray for the bugs in the coding or w/e, put on your best lippy and smile sweetly, and offer him a Coldstone's ice cream. That ought to do it. ;)

[Mirelly]

“Oh, my!” Brighton hissed as she peered around the curtains at the red saloon car pulling up by the mailbox. “He’s here.” She could hardly believe that Ash had arrived. All day she had waited, expecting a call at any moment: a call to say that he was cancelling their date. All day she had toyed with the notion of getting in first and crying off before she could be dumped. Except.... Except, why should she? She had done nothing wrong. The door bell rang and she heard Sharla scamper down the hall to answer the door. The Ottomas’ middle child and only daughter was practically a teenager, but her child-like exuberance was still in evidence from her incredibly noisy footfalls (was it really necessary to stamp each step with such authority?)

Sharla’s complete lack of adult sensibilities was even more obvious in her raucous screech from beside the front door. “Brighton! Your date’s here.”

Brighton winced. For all the child’s gaucheness, there was a particular edge to the way she had dipped and then raised her tone as she stretched out the word, here. Childish, or not, Sharla had a fine grasp of the sardonic. Or maybe she was just relishing the chance to tell tales on her former teacher when Monday came around. Dreading the encounter, but helpless to avoid it, she came out of her ground floor room and, rounding the foot of the stairs, she saw Ash, holding a small posy of roses, and shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another as he studied the toes of his shoes.

“Hello.” She said.

Ash twitched as if he had received a sharp static shock. He grinned at her and held out the flowers. Brighton walked forward but, pointedly, kept her arms at her sides. Say something, then.

“I, um. I mean, er … well, I was a bit stupid the other day ….”

“A bit …?” Ooh, look at him squirm!

“OK, a lot stupid. That’s me. Half stupid, half dumb, half idiot, half not good at maths.”

“Half thief, too.”

“Eh?”

“I’ve heard that half not good at maths line before.”

“Ouch.” He lowered the bunch of flowers to his hip. It was a sad, resigned sort of negative gesture. “I guess you’re still pretty mad and unimpressed with me, huh?”

“Still …?” In spite of herself, Brighton was the who winced when she saw how hard her barb had struck. “Well maybe I can find forget—“

“Yes?” Ash’s face brightened a smidgeon and the hand bearing the flowers twitched, Brighton couldn’t help noticing, as though it were straining at the leash for a chance to pass on the floral tribute.

“—you’re a huge arse, on one condition.”

“Anything, you just name it.”

“A simple explanation will do.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He looked happier. “Maybe I can try to explain more over dinner?”

Suddenly, they were both aware of Sharla’s ill-concealed presence behind the kitchen door at the end of the hall. At that moment, the easy chemistry, which had so strongly shaped their earlier encounters, kicked in and they grinned sheepishly at each other and without further prompting they reached a silent agreement to continue their discussion in private.

[Lynet]

Oh, I like this so much--the courtship dance--the heart laid bare...

[Sacharissa]

Love it, Mirelly! You make it seem so real!

And just for the record, I agree regarding Sims Male Facial Hair...There's just somthing about it...Meeeow!:rolleyes:

[Mirelly]

I am very tired, but I am also happy, so that’s all right. It is almost midnight and tomorrow is Monday and I have to be in school for 8. I’ll probably look like a zombie. Oh well, never mind. I must just take a few minutes to write down all that’s happened since Ash picked me up on Saturday afternoon.

He’d come in his car, he explained, because he wanted to go for a drive with me. We drove out on Bridge, over the river and on up the valley. I’d not got around to going out that way before. It gets wild really quick and it was so pretty because the trees are changing colour and every other bend in the road brought us out of the trees to a magnificent view of the Penn River which just keeps getting narrower and steeper and whiter, foamier, the higher you get. Sadly, we had to turn back before we got high enough up to see Penn’s Peak poking up through the clouds.

It was dark when we got back to his place and I got nervous all over again, for no reason I could think of. He led me in and sat me at the kitchen table with a glass of Chablis, while he went about the gruesome business of dismembering a pair of bright red lobsters. In no time at all the meat was piled in a bowl and the tail shells were washed and ready. I’d been looking forward to seeing him cook, but instead he opened the fridge and brought out a bowl of béchamel sauce that he’d made —he said — earlier. In no time at all the dish was in the oven and he looked at his watched, poured himself a glass of wine and said, “right, then. I’ve just got time to give you my excuse.”

I smiled back at him. “Well you’ve had plenty of time to think of one.”

“Meanie! I haven’t given the matter of an excuse a moment’s thought, at all, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. It was plain and simple jealousy. I walked in the roller rink and there you were. Well that was fine. Then I saw … him with you … enjoying himself and I just got mad. Nutso. Crazy as a moth in a room full of candles. Everything I tried to do to stop me thinking about you and him having fun together just reminded me that if I wasn’t such a total lame-brain I might’ve thought of asking you to come skating with me. All that did, was make me madder than ever.”

He waited, watching me for a few moments. I was holding my wine glass, swirling the pale straw-coloured liquid, and my head was bent so that my hair covered my eyes. “Well,” I heard him say. “You did say a simple explanation would be enough … am I forgiven? Pretty please ….”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m trying real hard to get over this, because, so help me, I really like you. You’re funny, you’re very considerate, you’re not so full of yourself that you can’t listen to someone else … you’re good at not interrupting is what I mean. But jealousy. Man, I can’t hack that. I am trying to feel flattered but all I keep getting is bad vibes.” I looked up at him to see, perhaps, if I could, what was behind his eyes. I saw sadness looking back at me.

“I’m not really like that …. I know that’s easy to just say. What happened the other day was as much a surprise to me as it must have been for you.” He drained his glass and set it down with exaggerated care. Then he fixed me with his eyes. “I know I called it jealousy but maybe it wasn’t that so much as a temper tantrum with myself … because I thought I’d lost my chance to be with you.” He picked up the wine bottle and studied the label as though it contained the secrets of the universe and he’d forgotten how to read. He replaced it carefully before speaking again.

“You see, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since last weekend.”

“Nor me,” I said almost without thinking.

He looked at me sharply. “Really?”

“Truly and honestly.”

“Can I kiss you?”

OK, what do you think I said, diary. I’m totally stupid. It was only a peck because the oven timer pinged and he had to get the lobsters. They were delicious. We took our time over the food, flirting and chatting and feeding each other. Then it got very late and I was suddenly wondering if I really wanted to go home to my digs … alone. I didn’t want to appear presumptuous (or licentious for that matter) by seeming to assume I was staying. On the other hand I didn’t want to burn my boats by asking to be taken home … in case he took me. Harlot! In the end he solved the dilemma for me.

We were snuggled together on his sofa, some logs were crackling in his fireplace and an old movie was just finishing on the TV. “Wow, doesn’t time fly when you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, stretching and making some very worrying crackles and pops in his spine. “I s’pose I ought to think about getting you back home.” He had sat forward and he turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes were full of boyish mischief. They were saying: that’s all the offer you’re gonna get, girl. Bless him he was making this easy, whichever way I wanted to play it.

I love games like that. “Well, I don’t have to go … yet,” I responded, with my own brand of impishness. “Do I?”

I saw his face try to stay fixed as his brain quickly worked through all the possible meanings. “Maybe I’ll just forget and have to take you home in the morning then,” he said trying to sound off-hand.

I stood up and grabbed him by the wrist. “Just take me to bed, you big idiot.”

All I really need to add before I close, is that we had Sunday breakfast in bed and that we really did finish eating it before sunset … but only just.

Am I ashamed of myself? You're darn tooting, I'm not!

[hugzncuddles]

Mirelly, I'm lovin' it! hehehe. :D

All fun and games eh? :devil:

[Mirelly]

My heavens! I can’t believe how time has flown. It hardly seems like five minutes since I arrived here late last August, and now it’s nearly spring! Ever since Ash and I became lovers we’ve been, well, do I have to spell it out, diary?

Actually the winter was a bit dull, weather wise. I like to see a decent fall of snow, the sort that sticks around for a month or three, the sort that attracts regular top-ups every week or so to help keep it fresh and white looking. What did we get? Cold winds mostly. We did have a few snow showers, but they fizzled out before it got around to looking much worse than a hard frost.

The midwinter holiday was a bit dismal as a result. We’re neither of us religious — all that Mirelly mumbo jumbo is all just hogwash as far we’re concerned — but we swapped gifts anyway on Simday because giving, and getting, of course, is fun. Ash got me some gorgeous lingerie and I bought him a spiffy hat and gloves, which came into their own sooner than we expected.

The next day we woke to find Penn Vale buried under at least a foot of snow. Honestly! We were like two kids. Running around the back garden like demented puppies, we were. Chasing each other trying to dump handfuls of snow down the other’s neck, throwing ourselves into the drifts that had formed along the fence before settling down to some serious snowball throwing, snow angel making and, for an encore, the ritual building of a snowman. It made a really perfect end to what had been a perfect year and it was a pity we had to go back to work the next day.

It wasn’t long after that I started chucking up my breakfast almost as soon as I’d eaten it. Silly Ash caught me coming out of the downstairs toilet and, like he does, he grabbed me for a quick kiss. Ew. He asked if I’d been sick and I nodded.
“Shall I call out the doctor?” he asked, all stricken and worried looking. “It wasn’t that leftover spaghetti, was it?”

I grinned my best grin at him. “You might want to wait around thirty eight weeks before calling the doctor.”

“Eh?” It was so funny. His face worked through about ninety nine expressions and then he looked at me and said: “Your?” There was no ellipsis, I swear it.

I nodded at him encouragingly. “Yes, I am,” I said. “And I hope you’re happy about it, because I am.”

He looked at me with eyes full of wonder and tenderness. I can hardly believe how much I love him, but if it’s possible I loved him even more at that moment. “Do you want to sit down?” He said eventually.

“No,” I laughed. “But maybe you ought to. You look like you need a rest.”

“I don’t … do I?” He pulled me close to him and kissed me again. I tried to pull away.

“No, I stink—”

“I don’t care, I love you and I love our baby and I want us to get married and I want to know why we are married already and …”

“Whoa! Slow down. The only reason we’re not married already is because you never got around to proposing. I might be fairly liberal in most respects but I’m old-fashioned enough to want to leave some things to tradition.”

He pulled back sharply and for a brief moment I thought I had said something to upset him. He clasped my shoulders and looked me sternly in the eye. “Just stand there and don’t move,” he said before spinning on his heels and disappearing up the stairs. Seconds later he was charging back down them, taking them at least 4 at a time. It’s a wonder he didn’t fall and break his neck.

He skidded to a stop in front of me. Drop to one knee and opened his hand to reveal a small black box.

“My darling, Brighton, light of my life, I want us to spend the rest of lives together. Please say you will marry me.” The rock on the ring was enormous, but I would’ve said yes if it had been a bit of glass.

We’re planning a quiet wedding for next week, the first day of Spring. We decided on a very quiet affair because we neither of us have any relatives who would be likely to attend. Ash says that we’ll grow our own dynasty. I like that idea.

Anyway, dear diary, this is goodbye from me, Brighton Mayes. The next time I see you I'll be Mrs. Ash Mallory ... yes, Brighton Mallory has nice ring to it.

[Lynet]

LOL, what a MAN! Kissing her right after she's been sick. :D

[Mirelly]

Yeah ... I think I've given him super powers by mistake. Seriously, though, I kinda hoped that we could take it as read that she had thoroughly rinsed and gargled before leaving the bathroom ... and I don't suppose there are many folks who keep extra toohtbrushes and mouthwash in the downstairs loo ...

Honestly Lynet! Can't take you anywhere :rolleyes: I have it on complete authority, from Brighton herself, that her breath was no more sour than a posseting baby's (hmm ... are there two ts in possetting ... no that's never right, either. I'd know if I'd actually read any baby books ... :rolleyes: )

BTW In keeping with my simiverse theme, I nearly had them watching I-Sim as the late-late old movie ... I expect it was in B&W? :p

PPS. You might've noticed that I sped them up to the wedding cos I've gotten impatient to play again. I've been having fun writing somewhat on the fly the last few days. Brighton's been pregnant since Last weekend (10 days ago). I've only played to gather photo's that I didn't have in store. I avoided playing the Ottomas house, where Brighton lives, to prevent her belly growing, but I missed getting a pic of the proposal and regret, now, not going back for a retake. Still .... One thing I am full of admiration for your stories. You have actual plots that start at a beginning and go to an end via a middle and all your stars are in costume. I still haven't worked out how you got a pic of Ironsides jumping out of a window ....

[Lynet]

Ew. He asked if I’d been sick and I nodded.It was the "Ew" word.

As for Ironsides' fall, someday I'll have to do a thread on how I stage some of my pictures. MoveObjects is, of course, is the cheat I rely on most.

Thanks, about my stories with plots. I never plan much in advance. I write myself into corners and then have to figure a way out of the situation. This leads to some pretty wild twists. I appreciate all the freedom that I have here at Worldsims to get as crazy as I like with these adventures (keeping it clean, of course :o .) So I end up with Errol going through mirrors in his basement and traveling the simiverse. I hope I tie up all loose ends. I worry about that sometimes. I did, for instance, leave a pregnant robot on the moon. I don't know yet what she gave birth to. :eek:

[Mirelly]

LOL ... the Ew, of course was in Brighton's mind. Ash is far to much of gent to complain ... no he just comes right out and asks "mm ... so you've been technicolor yawning down the big white trombone, then?" Funny that ... I never realised he was an Aussie before now :p

Someone come around here and stop me. I'm downloading again ... I think I've melted MTS2 :rolleyes:

[hugzncuddles]

I grinned my best grin at him. “You might want to wait around thirty eight weeks before calling the doctor.”

“Eh?” It was so funny. His face worked through about ninety nine expressions and then he looked at me and said: “Your?” There was no ellipsis, I swear it.

I nodded at him encouragingly. “Yes, I am,” I said. “And I hope you’re happy about it, because I am.”

*sighs happily* :)

/me wishes she only had to wait 38 weeks too. :p

[Mirelly]

Now I am puzzled by:
/me wishes she only had to wait 38 weeks too.

Since a normal pregnancy is 40 weeks from the beginning of the last period, most moms, who wait for the first missed period, only have to wait 36 weeks. On the other hand, by the law of averages, half of all babies will be over term. If you ask me I don't think doctors know a blind thing ...

/me ducks in case Kat poke her head around the corner and notices I'm talking on her subject :p

On the other hand ... Hugz!! ;)

[jupitershana]

*sighs happily* :)

/me wishes she only had to wait 38 weeks too. :p


You know, I was going to ask you the other day if you were "nesting." Do you have something to share with us? Or just general TTC woes?

And Mirelly; I'm loving this story! I keep checking your blog to see the pictures!

[surprised_by_witches]

Wonderful story. I know what you mean about being impatient! Their lives go so fast ... from not in love to in love, to pregnant, and from baby to toddler like that ...

I smell a new legacy brewing. :D

[Sacharissa]

So happy for the lovely couple! And I love your take on the Sim Universe, Mirelly! ("...all that Mirelly mumbo jumbo" indeed!) So glad you're back and writing again!

[Mirelly]

I had sort of hoped to get a post written up today, but I still haven't managed to sort out the concordance and without that I might as well go for a drive without my glasses.

In the meantime I thought I would post a few snaps that I took today as I messed around moving in the new families that will be the core characters of the next few episodes. Hopefully everyone will all integrate nicely and they can all be friends ... :rolleyes:

First up is the Antrobus family. Mom, Melia is a hairdresser, the proprietor of the Vale's new salon due to open soon. Her hubby, Chatham is a bit of a bum and their two sons, Herne and Rochester are as alike as, well, chalk and cheese.

Next we have the Coynes. (I've mislaid their names and the game is not running so I'll not embarrass myself by guessing ...) The little girl is such a darling, Mom's a bit of slob, but a hard worker. The little boy is sweet too. There is a dad. He's not in this shot.

A quick view of the Ramaswammi house (did I spell that correctly? I had to find them a home because the wife, Priya, got a job at The Toy Box. Sanjay (gawd, talk about typecasting) took one look at the house on the corner of Pennfield Road and Central Avenue and decided the bay-windowed front room would make a great shop ... Priya is at work, and Sanjay is waiting for the shopfitters to arrive in this pic.

The last family to introduce is the all female Tangell clan. Matriach, Sarah is a widow, her daughter, Rhianna lost her husband ... to another woman in another state. Rhanna has three daughters, two teenagers and pre-teen. The middle child, Dolly is potentially the most volatile ... that's her in the final pic with Orlando Centowski.

[surprised_by_witches]

I love the pictures, Mirelly. Rhianna, especially, looks almost real ... very cool!

[Mirelly]

LOL I jsut remembered I didn't say who owns The Toy Box ... oh, alright, it's Rhianna. She's gonna be a big player. Her mom is cloned directly from my sim me as seen in my Avatar, just given her face a good scrub and washed out the hair color and cut it sensibly short ... I also dialled her up a nice large rocker to sit on :p

What kinda spooked me out was the fact that Rhianna looks more like me than her mother does. Oh well .... Anyway, Rhianna Tangell toy shop tycoon ... well someone was needed to supply the hood with kites. Rhianna has already trademarked her brand name: The Ben Franklin Strike Me Rigid ... it's not catchy, it's long-winded, but if doesn't catch a lightning bolt you can always laugh at its stupid name.

[Lynet]

I hope the story is in concordance soon, and continues. :)

[muffin-tacos]

Lol Mirrely love your stories!! :D

[Mirelly]

Clippings From The Penn Vale Recorder


VALE’S NEW G.P. HIGH AS KITE


Penn Vale residents have been watching closely while contractors have been putting the finishing touches to the new buildings on the north side of the neighbourhood square. We can now reveal that plot #101 will shortly open its doors as “The Toy Box” under the watchful eyes of manageress, Mrs. Priya Ramaswami.

However we can also reveal the news that the owner of The Toy Box is none other than Penn Vale’s newest resident, Dr. Tangell. Dr. Rhianna Tangell holds degrees in simmedicine and quackery from the University of Simcinnati and will be taking up tenure at the Penn Vale Health Centre on Monday.

Meanwhile on Saturday, in her role as owner and chief designer, of The Toy Box, Rhianna will preside over the grand opening of what promises to be the number one stop for the young at heart in Penn Vale. A full range of quality toys will be on sale. Early shoppers will receive a 10% discount

Rhianna promises that her best-selling line is the kite that her grandfather, Aden Fotheringham III, patented during his time at the Patent Office. She promises that the Ben Franklin Strike Me Rigid kite, available in four exciting colour ways, will thrill and delight all but the most wooden-hearted. “I just hope I don’t have to treat too many lightning burns,” said the wry-faced medic. The Recorder seconds that sentiment. We wish the good doctor success in both her ventures.

Doctor Tangell moved to Penn Vale last month, with her elderly mother and three daughters. The Tangells have also brought the Vale’s first mechanoid to ‘live’ in the neighbourhood. The robot is named Marvin and is said to be a keen gardener.



_________________________________________


Epistolary


Swami’s Pie Shop

20 Pennfield Road

Penn Vale

Pennfield

Penn State

My Dear Mamma Gee,

Life is so hectic in the USS. I hardly have time to think. We have been so busy since we arrived here that I cannot believe that six weeks has passed since I last wrote to you. I hope that you do not think we have forgotten you.

As you can see, I have bought house. It is most suitable. Priya and I live on the second floor and the ground floor is given over to the store and the bakery. Planning was not a problem so you can let Uncle Kuldip know that he was misinformed about the levels of red tape in this country. Ha-ha.
Priya has been very lucky with work. She applied for the post of manager of a new store that is very close to our home. The owner was most impressed with her skills and she started work immediately, helping to get ready for the opening a few days later. The pay is very good and she enjoys the workings … well, you know how she likes to be a bossy-boots, eh?

Please can you send more of the secret spice mixture that you gave me for the cheesecake topping. It is a very popular line in my shop (the cheesecake, not the secret spices ha-ha) and I will soon run out.

I hope this finds you as it leaves me. In good health. Priya sends you her love also and thanks you for the gift you sent her. She says that you can’t get such good black kohl in this country as can be obtained at home.

Your loving son
Sanjay





__________________________________________________ ____
The Tangelled Web


Sarah


It’s no use, I’m getting old. Suddenly stuff hurts that didn’t hurt before. Also when I take off my clothes at night it seems as though half of me is in a rush to join the fabric on the floor. Something else is a bother, too. I seem to be getting forgetful. Twice this week I managed to set something ablaze on the stove. Well, one on the stove and once in the oven … ew. That poor catfish; it put up such a fight as well. I wish I’d thrown him back, now. He deserved better than a slow cremation. Marvin said that fish meal is good fertilizer and enthusiastically broke up the crumbly carbonised mess into his compost bin. Honestly that thing is getting too human, he’ll be wanting to wear clothes next.

Well Rhianna is back to her old form. It has been a rough time for her the last 12 months. After that rat Dion abandoned her and the kids, she seemed to broken up ever to get back on course. But, of course she’s made of stronger stuff and we don’t need Dion Tangell to keep messing things up. I was glad, frankly, to see the back of the womanising fink. It’s a pity that Ri won’t change her name back to Fotheringham. Fotheringham’s Kites would’ve been a good name for the store. At least everyone agreed that Tangell Kites was a no brainer. I just hope that Ri hasn’t taken on too much with the surgery as well as managing the shop. I glad though she agreed to appoint a manager.

Well, diary. Chloe is making As right down the line. She’s also holding down a job at the local mini market … the poor kid is working all hours but she looks well on it. She seems sure to get into a good university. If only her younger sister was as devoted to study. Don’t get me wrong. Chloe isn’t all work and no play. She has boyfriends, and rarely comes home from school without someone who needs feeding, or a dip in our pool, or a loll on our couch with one on the music channel and the other on whatever it is that teenagers always have to twitter over. But Polly is a whole other ball game.

Well, diary. Chloe is making As right down the line. She’s also holding down a job at the local mini market … the poor kid is working all hours but she looks well on it. She seems sure to get into a good university. If only her younger sister was as devoted to study. Don’t get me wrong. Chloe isn’t all work and no play. She has boyfriends, and rarely comes home from school without someone who needs feeding, or a dip in our pool, or a loll on our couch with one eye on the music channel and the other on whatever it is that teenagers always have to twitter over. But Polly is a whole other ball game.


That girl was a giant ball of mischief the moment the midwife swatted her little rump. She actually managed to discover boys before her eldest sister. And my heavens, but what goes on these days! I’m sure we didn’t have such freedom when I was their age. But, I am most definitely not an interfering grandmother. I let my daughter make her own decisions and try hard to keep right out. But by Maxis, it's hard sometimes. I’ve gone to bed more than once with a sore tongue from biting on it.


Oh, I’ll have to go. Little Edith wants a bedtime story. I shouldn’t have a favourite, but the baby of the family can’t help but be a little spoiled and precious. Bless her. “Granny’s coming, dear!”

[Sacharissa]

Clippings From The Penn Vale Recorder

...The Tangells have also brought the Vale’s first mechanoid to ‘live’ in the neighbourhood. The robot is named Marvin and is said to be a keen gardener.

And is he a manically depressed robot? Enquiring minds want to know!

Seriously though, love your story, Mirelly, You have such a fun writing style and wry sense of humor.

[Mirelly]

“Oh man! Look at all this homework!” Herne’s face is a parody of angst.

“Pah! You’re such a whinger, bro,” Rochester laughs as he joins his brother on the grass strip. Behind him, on the school bus, a raucous wall of sound erupts as a dozen, Friday-energised teens, begin to harangue the driver to get moving, already.

“Yeah? And you’re the model student?” Herne sets about his twin with playful knuckles. “Who’s teacher’s ickle pet, then?”

“Ow! Geddoff, me!” Rochester dances out of the way. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Aw diddums.”

“Jerk.”

“Baby.” This is true, just. Rochester is the younger by 17 minutes.

“Least I’m not ugly.”

“Right, say your prayers, Rocco—”

Rochester darts away just in time. “Only prayers I’m planning to say, are over your grave, bug-eyes.” He blows a loud and very wet raspberry at Herne. “Come on let’s quit this and get this homework done before the ‘rents get home. You know that mom’ll never let us go down to the square tonight if we haven’t finished.”

Herne’s face turns serious. “Yeah, OK.” Then he cracks a sly grin. “You take all the tough questions, cos you need the practice … no don’t thank me.”

They run inside, still trading play punches.

— — — — —

“Save me Rocco, save me. I’m drowning in a sea of tediosity.” The twins meet by the cashier.

“So tedious you had to spend money, I see.”

“What? This?” Herne holds up a bright, purple kite. “This awesome baby is gonna be my ticket to babe-heaven.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You have doubts, I can tell.”

“I don’t have any doubts … that’ll make a total idiot out of yourself.” Rocco snorts. “Knowing you, you’ll wrap it around some power lines and get yourself fried.”

“Maybe that’s part of the plan …,” he nudges Rocco, suggestively. “Come on, dude, let’s blow this joint and go find some action.”

“Oh yes, why don’t we go to the park and fly our kitey-witey.”

“You nose-wipe! Nah, let’s go and hit the road house on Bridge Street.”

“That dive?”

“It’s full of babes ….”

“No way, man! No self respecting girl would go in there.”

“Now that’s just nasty. Maybe I’ll have to tell Mom.”

Rocco pulls a face. “I hate it when twist me around like that.”


“Advantage of maturity, dear boy. Watch and learn, watch and learn.” He pats his jeans’ pockets. “Er, can you lend me a few simoleons, I still gotta pay for this.”

[Lynet]

I love these two. Very funny, and obviously headed for trouble.

[suitemichelle]

So Mirelly, do you play the game and write down what your sims do, or make your sims jump through your hoops?

[Mirelly]

Oh, my sims have no fate but what I make for them, The pictures I take are of them performing what they think they want to do and I choose the ones that fit my narrative as closely they are ever going to. My stories are not sims picture stories in the strict sense of the word ... I am no Lynet, whose story illustrations are awesome in both their contextual richness as well as in their inventive use of cheats. I don't think my stories are much like SBWs either, although I suspect our approaches are somewhat similar. I play the sims and seek to direct them, but I am a little mercurial and a lot capricious in the ways in which I suddenly redirect them. This has sometimes made my (unwritten) sims stories rather wild and unlikely, I am hoping that Penn Vale can be reasonably restrained within the bounds of believability and "realism". The realism, of course, being relative, since my simiverse contains many oddities ... the oddest, of course, being the great and merciless goddess Mirelly-Lyra. ;)

[Lynet]

whose story illustrations are awesome in both their contextual richness as well as in their inventive use of cheats Thank you. :o

When I was very young I wanted to write comic books. I guess I've gotten as close as I'll ever get to that.

My number one cheat is simply "MoveObjects." You can get some interesting effects with it, such as sims flying through the air, an illusion that depends a lot on camera angle, too. Two other cheats that are fairly new and very useful are showHeadlines off (removes thought bubbles) and plumbBobToggle (hides plumb bobs.) Other than that it's a lot of curious and interesting downloads, like skeleton skins and 'invisible' skins, and mods that speed up skills and relationships (otherwise I'd be hours getting one sim friendly enough with another to be willing to come for a visit.)

I think my stories provide a good laugh on occasion, too. :rolleyes:

Sorry, I seem too have talked to much and stollen your thread. But I am really looking forward to more about Herne and Rochester.

[Mirelly]

Sorry, I seem too have talked to much and stollen your thread.

LOL I like stollen cake ... heck I like cake :o

Seriously, though, steal away. I am mostly in awe of your devoted downloadage of props and costumes for your sims. I suppose it is just a matter of we all being different ... in our approach as much as in our style.

On a side note, it is funny how a charcater can lead a writer. I was quite surprised when Herne decided to called Rochester, Rocco. It hadn't occurred to me when I picked the name (sticking to the names of towns in the fine english county of Kent ....

Let's see. I plucked the name Antrobus out of a hat, because I quite like it. In CAS I always randomise first and then look at what I have got. Generally I will then go into my sims bin and find one I made earlier, only less Maxian in ugliness, that looks the most like the random selection. Ditto for a spouse (when making a family). Any CAS children are made simply by taking what comes. For personality I spend some time ... believe it or not it can be quite a lot of time, studying the sim that's been made and trying to decide what they are like. Herne is the slightly hispanic looking twin and he just seemed to shout at me: I'm the eldest, the boss, the big I-am! (and being the elder child, I am also a little shy and fragile of ego). However it didn't occur to me that they were twins until they began conversing and ragging each other. Before then I was preapred to Merola Rocco a few day extra days because I had him pegged as the younger. I like it when my characters lead me. (And, aw heck, I just contradicted everything I said in my reply to Michelle's question :rolleyes: )

[Lynet]

I randomize in CAS, then make changes to the face, trying to make them individual. Except, I don't like it when hair lies inside their cheekbones, for instance, or teeth come out through their chins when they talk.

Sometimes the kids born to my chosen pairs turn out OK, sometimes they don't. King Joe and Ania had one nice looking boy, a so-so daughter, and one completely goofy looking boy.

Brother, I keep erasing everything I start to say. I'd better just post and get my work done. Sheesh.

[Lynet]

I am still looking forward to reading more about Penn Vale, either here or in the story forum, 'though I keep going off on tangents here.

It just occurred to me that I might find it easer to sell my novel to a publisher if I pasted a big picture of Errol Waring's friendly face on the title page. :D Pharaoh Farrow, Illustrated. :p Smile, Errol! *flashbulb*

[surprised_by_witches]

I like pretty sims. Can't help it, I just do. :o I do like 'em to be distinctive though, and I try not to make too many new ones, though of course I let them reproduce ...

I'm loving the twins, Mirelly. What a pair. Remind me of Fred and George Weasely. Can't wait to see what happens when they find a girl or two ... hoping it's two separate girls, or there's gonna be trouble in River City, with a capital T and that stands for twins ... :p

[Mirelly]

Chloe’s Journal


I hate my sister. I wish I didn’t, but I do. No. I hate my LIFE! It’s so unfair.

I suppose I’d better be honest. I got fired today. Well, it was a crappy job anyway, and the pay was lousy. How was I supposed to know the crowd would get pissed at me for becoming Limpy. Limpy? Isn’t that a lame name for a team mascot … oh no, I am sooooo funny. Oh well getting fired is not the end of the world, but getting home earlier than expected and finding your sister coming on to the guy she knows you have fancied for weeks and weeks …. I still haven’t forgiven her for encouraging that louse Tommy Ottomas to flirt with her when he and I were supposed to be going steady. I know. I’d been warned. Stay away from the Ottomas family. They’re old valley people, as if that explains everything. Jensen Vorderman (buh-doyng!!!!) told me, during registration the other day, that Tommy’s mommy got squished by a satellite! I mean how odd can you get?

Polly is such a witch, though. She’s got boys coming at her from all directions and still she can’t help stealing the precious few that come my way. It’s not as if Kory Smothers is anything special.

Aw soot! I suppose I might as well go and do my homework.

— — — —

You will NEVER GUESS what’s just happened!!!!!

I only got a phone call from —<> ta da!! <>— Rocco Antrobus. He called up to ask if I wanted to go roller-blading with him tomorrow afternoon. Heh heh. Guess what? Polly has to work Saturday afternoon and I don’t cos I got FIRED. Yay, for me!!!!

Dea Vox Vocis


“Hi, Chloe.”

“Hello, Rocco.”

“I’m er, sorry I’m a bit late. Mom phoned up and absolutely insisted I stop by the salon with a sandwich for her lunch.”

“Oh that’s all right.”

“You sure? Not too cold? It’s still a bit chilly out.”

“No, I’m fine, really.” Brrrr … let’s go in puh-p-please. “Is you mum’s salon that new place on the square?”

“Coiff Syrups? Yup, that’s hers. She thinks it a real witty name for a hairdressing salon, but I dunno … least it’s better than ‘Clip Joint’.”

“It is an odd name. I still haven’t figured out the Syrups part.”

“Mom also does wigs and hair extensions.”

“!” And that makes sense? “Oh, I see.”

“Brrrr. Come on. Let’s go inside and show these valley-hicks how to skate with style.”

Laughing. “You can. Me? I’m just a beginner.”

“The lady is too modest. A friend told me he saw you here a week ago and he said you were awesome.”

“Oh, I bet!”

“Sincerely. Mind you, he might have been talking about your eyes ….”

“Now, you’re teasing me.” They were finally inside. Chloe was grateful for the blast of warmth. She had regretted not taking a warm coat almost as soon as she’d left home, but the pride and stubbornness of youth had won out over common sense.

“I never, ever tease.” He stopped to look at her soberly. “Ready to skate up some sweat?”

“As I’ll ever be.”


“Then get your skates on and the first one to fall on their butt buys the drinks.”

[surprised_by_witches]

Oh, man. He's good. If I were her age I'd fall too. :)

And to answer an earlier surmise, yes indeed I do let my sims dictate, to a certain extent, what happens in my stories as well, but the overarching plot, that's all me.

[Mirelly]

Clippings From The Penn Vale Recorder


VALE BOOMING!


The Vale is booming and it’s official, according to town records keeper, Micah Osteen. In the last month of spring, almost a dozen new families chose to make Penn Vale their home. As if this wasn’t fantastic enough, three budding business persons chose to open new businesses in what is fast becoming the regions hottest commercial district.

Mrs. Melia Antrobus has opened her cosmetology salon, Coiff Syrups, where stylish makeovers for men and women are given by a highly qualified, professional staff. Mr. and Mrs. Ramaswami, recent immigrants to the USS, have opened a highly regarded pie shop, which the couple run out their converted Pennfield Road beach house. “You haven’t lived until you have tasted my cheesecake,” a beaming Sanjay Ramaswami told Recorder reporter, Peter Ottomas.

Penn Vale’s newest business, The Blooming Corner, opened this week on the corner of the square. Florist, Jensen Vorderman, promises that his Antirrhinum Magicus bouquet will be much in demand as soon at its beneficial effects become widely appreciated. As if that wasn’t exciting enough — and we must not overlook the recently opened Toy Box — a new restaurant is due open soon under the name of the Frying Fish.

All this commercial confidence inspired the town burghers to dip deep into their budgetary pockets because the hottest new community project in Penn Vale this spring, has been the building of the Penn Vale Community Centre. There were many who felt this project was too extravagant but this reporter was not among them.

The PVCC opens its doors this Sunday and citizens will be spoilt for choice regarding leisure activities. Beyond the ample car park, the PVCC has a large, indoor, all-season swimming pool, a modern, fully-equipped gym, an indoor ice-rink and bowling lanes. The building is fully accessible for disabled persons, thanks to the last minute decision to install an elevator.

[Lynet]

I love the business names. All of them make me smile. And SBW's right. Rocco is smoooooth. :D

[Mirelly]

Sarah

Oh dear, but I find it tiring. Sometimes I just wish I could live on my own and not have the stress of the daily grind. Three grand daughters! A grandson or two would have been good, oh Mistress of Fate. Oh what’s the use of begging a goddess who obeys no sim? Trouble is I have this fantasy in my mind of grandsons paying respects and … homage … (yeah I am not proud, homage would be nice). I could cope with some homage. But grand daughters are a constant worry.

I took a walk over to Long Avenue yesterday. I only went for a nose around. The new houses up there went up so fast. Or maybe it’s just me losing track of time. By the time I dragged myself up that hill to the corner I was pooped, so I was standing pretending to rub my knee while I waited for my pulse to come down out of three figures (it felt more like four, but whatever. It was way too fast for my liking.) Anyway the new owner pulled up in a VW Beetle, done up like that car from the movies. He jumped out and introduced himself as Darrick Pickering and promptly dragged me inside for a coffee and to meet his wife, Moselle.

The house is quite neat, but it seemed a bit cramped. Then I found out they have four kids. Eek! I thought three was bad enough; me, I stopped at one. The Pickerings are good company and they seem quite relaxed. He works for a video game company. Apparently they’re working a simulation game called The Hums; he says it’ll be mega. Me, I didn’t understand a word of it, but he made it sound good.

http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/pickering.jpg


Left to right: Lucien, Darrick, Sparkle, Me, Nisely, Moselle


Some of their neighbours dropped by around noon and what a shock I got. The first “couple” was an oddity of a green-skinned man who was accompanied by a mech with a pink ribbon on its antenna. His name is Nisely — didn’t give me a first name, maybe they don't have first names where he comes from, wherever that is — and the bot’s name is Sparkle; Sparkle Nisely! Can you believe it? I wondered if I should mention our own bot, Marvin, but there was something about the way that Nisely kept looking at his machine that gave me the creeps. I decided to keep my counsel. The third member of the welcome wagon was a quiet fellow called Lucien Maugham, who I thought looked very fit and … ooh, if I were twenty years younger ….

I was thinking that I ought to get back home when Moselle produced a big tray of toasted cheese. I have to say they were very good toasties. I polished off two, just to be neighbourly. I’d never thought of making them with sliced pickles before. It’s true what they say that you’re never too old to learn.

[Mirelly]

Sunday


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/tangell-sunday.jpg

Left to right: Chloe, Edith, Polly


“Well are going to do something, or what?”

“What.”

“Polly Tangell, you drive me crazy. Just shut up if you can’t think of anything sensible to say.”

“Shut up yourself, Chloe-Woe-ee.”

“I wanna go skating,” Edith said around a mouthful of omelette.

“Me too!” Sarah chipped in from her usual station at the sink.

“You can’t skate, Grandma!” Edith chortled. “Can she?”

“Better than you, pip squeak, and Polly, would you mind telling me what you’ve done to yourself. You look … all loved-up.”

“I am.”

“Yes?”

“Oh it’s just some stuff I got from that old gypsy who hangs around.” Polly dropped her voice to hoarse whisper and leaned over her eggy plate. “It drives the boys wild.”

“Oh, is that what you used on Kory?”

“Not forgiven me for that, yet, have you? Nope I didn’t need it for him. ‘Twould have been a waste anyway. He’s such a plonker.”

“Did someone mention skating?” Rhianna appeared in the doorway.

“Yes, dear, but don’t interrupt. They’re talking about boys and I’m not half as deaf as they think I am.” Sarah said.

“What’s that, Grandma?” Polly said.

“She said you and Chloe were talking about boys and that she not half as deaf as you think she is.”

“Yes, thank you very much, Edith. That’s way too much information.” Polly’s face had flushed a bright pink.

“Look, are we going skating?” Chloe demanded.

“Yes. I’ll go book a taxi.”

“Can Rocco, come with us? Ouch.” Polly had kicked her shin under the table. “What was that for?”

“Ask him if his brother wants to come too.”

“Herne? He’s too old for you.”

“Tis not.”

“Tis, too!”

“Stop it you two.” Rhianna interrupted deftly. “Ask them both and we can let him make up his own mind.” She picked up Polly’s empty plate and sniffed. “What on earth is that scent you’re wearing?”


“Don’t ask, Mum,” Polly said, flashing a warning glance at her baby sister who was on the verge of exploding with a graphic answer. She pushed her chair back. “I’ll just see if they both want to come, then. What time shall I tell them?”

[Mirelly]

Penn Vale Community Centre

http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/pvcc-0.jpg


“Look at her.” Sarah said to her daughter as they leaned on the rail around the ice. “Poor Polly is such a romantic but she’s got so much to learn.”
“I know, I know. Trouble is, you can’t learn their lessons for them. Some things are only learnable the hard way; the same way we learned.”

“Yep, but it’s painful to watch, isn’t it?”

“You go and bowl a few frames if you want, Mum. I want to stay and keep an eye on her. She’s so young, I don’t want to see her get hurt, but I need to feel that I am here for her, if she needs me.”

“You’re worried about that Centowski boy, aren’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?” Rhianna grinned ruefully. “Yeah, he’s been watching them for ages and he’s just stewing himself into a mood. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Surely he doesn’t think that Polly belongs to him.” Sarah said after a long pause.

“You still here? I thought you’d gone.” Rhianna was half lost in reverie. “Well they were pretty sweet together through most of last semester …. But you know Polly. She’s a butterfly … wants a taste from every flower—

Sarah snorted at the image of Orlando Centowski as a flower.

“—but there’s no malice in her. She's just not ready to settle down. She can’t help being a flirt any more than Chloe can help being so serious.”

“Hmph. She could help by toning down the make up a bit! There’s too much of her father in her genes.”

Together they watched while Polly chatted and batted her eyes at a spellbound Herne Antrobus, oblivious to the presence of her erstwhile “steady” behind her.


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/pvcc-1.jpg



Eventually Centowski reached a full head of steam and he marched across the room and pushed between the love-sick pair and — as mother and grandmother held their breath — angry words were exchanged and no more. It did not come to blows. If anything Centowski came up with the short change.



http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/pvcc-2.jpg



The row terminated abruptly with Centowski’s face crumpling in despair and sadness; evidently Polly had told him they were through, finished, over.

“Ah, the pains of first loves, eh?”

“Pfah! I’m too old to remember.”

“Look, we’re just getting cold standing here. Let’s go get a coffee and then see if we can get a bowling team together. Maybe we can get the kids off the ice and show them some real moves.”

[suitemichelle]

Moselle.

WowieZowie.... that's my daughter's name. Do you pronounce it with the z or s sound? we chose s, thus avoiding the pun MadamMozelle

sorry I know this is way off topic...... and it's such a lovely story, dear.

[Lynet]

It's fun. I like Sarah's perspective. Must be my age. :o

And LOL at her take on Sparkle Nisely (love the name) and friend. :D

[Mirelly]

LOL I knew when I chose it that there was a Moselle floating around here at World Sims but couldn't quite recall where. I got the name (and spelling) from my big list. I actually printed off several hundred random names from a name generator site I found. Given names plus surnames. Some of them are doozies. I try to pick the surnames randomly and then be a little more selective with the given name. Sparkle didn't exist, even as an idea in my head, when I chose Nisely as the family name for the alien. But when he activated his servo I looked in the list of female names and Sparkle hit me in the eye. So apt.

PS I just noticed I spelled it Moselle (like the German river ... and wine :drunk: ) in the story. In the neighborhood it's actually spelt Mozelle ... sheesh.

[Mirelly]

I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, the last month of winter is always 30 days too long. Maybe it’s just ennui. The first snow was fun — I hope I never grow out of playing like a demented puppy in the first snow of the season — but in the end snow is a nuisance. For school kids, snow days are special, but try telling your boss you won’t be in today because it snowed overnight! At the end, winter is a farce. Neither freezing nor clement enough to leave off coats and scarves and nothing will grow and … yeah, I don’t like winter much. Of course I had more reason to be impatient for its end this year. My beloved Ash and I had set our wedding day for the first Sunday of the spring.

We both decided on a small and relatively simple ceremony. The great thing about this country is that we can perform our own ceremony and need only the signatures of four witnesses on the documentation for the registry authorities. That was how we ended up with Benjamin Long and Marisa Bendett as two of our guests. I guess we should have gotten out more, we don’t know many people here; well not well enough. We also invited Pete Ottomas and his mother.

We got everything organised in good time. Ash, hired some disco equipment (we were told that Benj is a pretty good DJ) and some tables and chairs, while I practised decorating a cheap pergola with wilty flowers I got free from the Blooming Corner. I wanted to make sure we got wed under an awesome floral bower and I didn’t want to practise with the good flowers on the day. Mr Vorderman, the florist, offered me a good price on a wedding arch decoration, but I explained that I wanted to do it myself, not to save money, but for the pride-value. He’s a nice man, because he said he understood perfectly and promised me all the leftover and damaged blooms during the last couple of months so I could practise my flower arranging..

So what happens? You makes your plans and the cruel goddess spits in your eye. Pete’s mother passed away unexpectedly the weekend before the wedding. We both felt sorry for the Ottomas family, but also for ourselves, because, suddenly, we were short of witnesses. We didn’t really expect Pete to be able to make it, but he not only insisted, he also suggested a substitute. He introduced her to us at the funeral, which was on the Wednesday following. Meena Lagerfield lives the other side of the church on Pennfield Road (there’s a quite a few houses along that way now!). She’s an immigrant like me. Her husband is a photographer and works weekends, but she promised that he would get away for an hour to take some photographs of the wedding. She is very shy, but I shall look forward to getting to know her. We foreign aliens must stick together.

The big day finally arrived and, to my relief, the weather was perfect. It had rained all week, but had stopped on Friday night and Ash’s … I mean our back lawn had dried out pretty well. By mid morning we were putting plan B into effect, dragging the pergola outside and setting out the chairs and the buffet and the cake. I don’t know about his pies (yet) but that Swami chap makes a stunning wedding cake.

http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/001.jpg


The guests arrived, on time, at 11am and we got straight to business. Our vows were simple and beautiful. I record them here, although I will never need a reminder.

Ash: Brighton, I desire with all my heart to stay at your side for all time. I will remain faithful and loving and respectful and honest towards you and all that I possess is at your disposal. When you are sad I will comfort you, when you are sick I will care for you, when you are weary I will serve you.

Me: Ash, I promise that I will love you and remain true to you and you alone until our lives end. Let those present here today, record that I take you as my husband and partner in life, and that I vow to share my life with you, to share your joy in success and to soothe your pain when troubles come: to be your wife.


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/003.jpg


Well, we’re neither of us poets. At least it wasn’t too soppy, sloppy. We swapped ring and then swapped some spit and then did a quick twirl around the garden while our horde of guests applauded in celebration of our union. No honestly, it was really romantic.

Then Benj got his turntables spinning and we all had a really good dance until we were all breathless and sweaty. Even Benj … I’ve seen such an energetic disc-spinner, and he looks so straight-laced and stern whenever I’ve seen him around. Oh well, I guess you can’t judge folks by appearance.


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/004.jpg


It really was the most fabulous day, and just when I thought it was over, Ash sprang a surprise on me. He’d booked a limo to whisk us off to the Capital Hotel, in Pennfield City, for a short, but unforgettable honeymoon.


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/005.jpg


Well that was a week ago and it looks like we were just in time. This afternoon I was getting changed to go out for dinner at the Vale’s new restaurant, The Frying Fish — it’s run by a busy little firebrand of a Japanese lady, and Ash and I were laughing about the innumerable possibilities concerning that choice of name — when he suddenly stopped laughing and pointed at my belly.


http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/006.jpg


“You’re showing,” was all he said, half wonderingly. It was true. I’d been noticing, in the shower, mostly, the slightness of a bulge growing more and more noticeable over the last few weeks, but until now it hadn’t shown much when I had my clothes on. I hadn’t realised until then how much difference there is between men and women. Poo! That sounds dumb, doesn’t it? What I mean is that I’ve known I’m pregnant since, well, since before I knew. I can’t say which day it was, because I didn’t think to record it, stupidly enough, but I remember suddenly having this feeling that I was carrying; and that was a clear two weeks before the official signs and symptoms made themselves clear. But until now, all Ash had, was my word for it. OK it’s a nutty point to make, but hey, I’ll say what I want to my diary.

We didn’t bother going out for dinner. Ash insisted that I should put my feet up and treat myself. I said I really fancied macaroni and cheese so he made some for me. It was just what I craved and they say that expectant mothers should give in to their cravings. I am happy to obey all sensible advice. Later on I started to crave some more … personal attention; I’m happy to report that my dutiful and faithful hubby was quite keen to oblige ….

[Lynet]

And Penn Vale grows. ;) Nice wedding. And I especially like the last picture. Those two are cute. I wonder whose nose the baby will get. :D

[suitemichelle]

Brava.... You are So good!

[Mirelly]

“Man!” Herne dumped another armful of wilted tomato vines into the compost. His shirt was stuck to his back, and he itched all over from the dust and sweat that pooled and dribbled into every crease. Overhead, the late September sun dominated a hazy metallic sky, which threatened thunderheads, so far without, seemingly, any inclination to follow up on the threat. The seventeen year old swept his forehead with a gritty forearm and glanced skyward, irritably. “Hey! How about some rain?” His tone was less challenging than petulant.

“Aw, stop complaining. It’s your fault we’re grounded anyway.”

“My fault? It wasn’t me that got busted.”

“Oh, and that cop who brought you home in his car was just a figment of my imagination, then, eh.”

“I had that under total control. I had that cop eating outa my hand. He was all set to just drop me off quietly and let me go with just a warning. The ‘rents would never have known.”

“Yeah? That’s easy for you to say.”

“Well, we’ll never know, seeing as you were dumb enough to try breaking back in through the garage door. I mean …. What were you thinking?”

“At least I got back home without getting collared by the cops.”

“Hardly counts if you set off the frisking alarm when you do, jerk!”

“I was explaining my way out of that when you turned up in a squad car!”

They stared at each other angrily for a few moments. Then Herne smiled at his brother. “But mom’s face was priceless, though, eh?”

Rocco’s face softened into a sly grin and then he bent a little at the knees and brought his hands up close to his chin, hunched his shoulders and pulled a grotesque face of self-pity. “Oh, yes, officer, no officer, I’m so sorry, officer,” his voice a cracked falsetto. Together they fell about laughing.

[suitemichelle]

Twins! sheesh.

[Lynet]

I like them, although I'm glad I'm not their mother. ;)

[Mirelly]

Sarah

I’m getting really worried about Rhianna. She’s taken on far too much with her job at the health centre as well running a busy toy shop. I’ve done what I can to help by keeping an eye on things at The Toy Box, but that Indian woman and I don’t get on well together. I find I disagree with almost every decision she makes. I went in the other day and she had the village idiot, Goopy, out front pitching sales to passers-by! Good-goddess! The fool was frightening more people away than he managed to press-gang inside. Meanwhile she had appointed herself in charge of the stockroom.

I was probably a little short with her in explaining that Rhianna would not be pleased to find that staff had been reassigned behind her back. She did not speak to me for the rest of the day. At least I didn’t have to listen to her prattling away about her precious husband’s way of running a cake shop. Maxoids, you’d think he was some kind of Escoffier to hear her talk. At least The Toy Box is winning awards.

I saw that reporter fellow hanging around again this morning. The shop was packed out and the till was ringing like a door bell. Goopy was run of his feet trying to keep the shelves filled so I was helping out. But that reporter looked very content when he left. He also bought one of our kites. I hope I don’t miss seeing a review in the paper. These days, I have to be quick to grab it before Marvin shreds it into his precious compost. I swear that heap of tin and transistors is more trouble than it’s worth.

While I am still on The Toy Box, we’ve sold a lot of Whirl-E-Wettoes this month. They’ve been very popular this summer; and profitable too, since I persuaded Rhianna to jack up the price to ouch level. If this heat wave continues we’ll need to hire in another toy maker.

But back to Rhianna. She has been staying up all night and skipping a lot of work these last few weeks. When she does bother to go in she comes home looking so pale and sick I really feared for her. I’ve lectured her and nagged her, but to no avail. She just pushes me away, snappishly, saying really odd and stupid things like: “you know how I hate the summer”, and “you know I don’t like it when it’s so bright”.

http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/hiss.jpg

I’m sure she’s sickening for something but darn it, she’s the one who’s supposed to be the MD. The trouble is I have the vaguest sort of feeling that I have seen her illness before. But every time I think I’m about to settle on it it flits away. It’s infuriating, like trying to catch a butterfly with one hand tied behind your back. It’s kind of corny but I even pulled the old physician heal thyself thing on her. You know what? She sneered at me. Actually she sort of went: “blergh”, right in my face and for a second I thought she was going to bite me. I shut my eyes tight for a second, half-scared of my own daughter, but when I opened them again she’d gone. I found out a minute or so later that she had locked herself in the cellar … again.

My little granddaughter blossomed into proto-womanhood this summer. Edith suddenly filled out and shot up about five inches without anyone noticing. It’s really quite unsettling the way kids seem to do that. She’s really quite pretty, though I know I’m supposed to say that. Along the way she adopted a sort of quasi-goth look and is attracting all sorts of attention much to the disgust of her elder sisters. Maybe, with Chloe heading off to University this autumn, Polly will mature a bit when she finds herself suddenly in the big sister role. Somehow I can’t see it happening, but I must try to be positive, and, besides, an old woman is entitled to hope.

http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/edith.jpg

There’s an old woman — even older than me — who wanders around the square a lot. I think I’ll ask her if she knows about herbs. I feel sure a good tonic will sort out Rhianna ….

[person123]

Have I said yet how much I'm loving this story? Sorry if I haven't commented yet. I love Herne and Rocco. Also, I just KNEW there'd be a vampire popping up sooner or later.

[Lynet]

Really cool picture of Rhianna. Yes, Penn Vale life is getting very interesting. :eek:

[Mirelly]

Rhianna


Oh mercy! I’m in trouble. I’m pretty sure that Mum knows what’s up with me, and now I have to make some hard decisions. Mirelly alone knows what I should do. The biggest problem is that I like my new condition, in spite of the inconveniences; well that and the fact that I cannot set aside the overwhelming compulsion to spread my ‘gift’ around. I nearly bit Mum the other day. She was nagging me so much, right in my face she was, and for a second — I swear it was just a second — I almost did give her a nip on her lovely neck. But she had closed her eyes and that stopped me long enough to know that she might not forgive me.

Marvin knows. I don’t know what possessed me to install an empathy chip … talk about a chip off the old block. He made it perfectly clear that he wanted me to infect him as well. I told him it was impossible and for a while I thought he was going to throw a tantrum. I had to ask him how he imagined he would recharge. Ha! Brain the size of a planet, and all the sense of a lightning bug.

The real problem I have is that I am going to miss a lot of my daughters’ lives, if I don’t watch out. I also like being the Vale’s GP and The Toy Box is going great, rated with 9 stars at the PVCoC. Life would have been so much simpler if I hadn’t met K______ at all. I mean, he’s such an odious little creep, I can’t imagine what possessed me to seduce him … except that of course I do. It was he who seduced me the rat-fink. Or maybe that should be bat-fink.

It would certainly stir things up around here if it got out that there’s a Grand Vampire on the loose. I know that He is looking for another to convert. I’ve spurned his offer of eternal, infernal matrimony at His side. He is way too creepy, even without being a vamp.

Oh! What can I do, though? I can’t keep going at work. House calls are sheer torture; an ecstasy of agony. I even toyed with buying a delivery van so I could fix up some sort of rejuvenation contraption in the back, so I could bring myself back from the brink if I got too much sun. As it is, my practice is suffering, big time. I am barely managing to make it to work more than twice a week. And when I do get in I am scaring the patients as often as fixing them up. The other day I smiled at cute little Teagan Coyne — who’d popped in for her pre-teen rubella shot — and she fainted dead away … and that was before I got the syringe out of the drawer. Why does life have to be so complicated?

[Sacharissa]

LOVE it, Mirelly! It just keeps getting better! I laughed out loud at the thought of a manically depressed robot vampire! THAT would shake things up a bit!!!

[Mirelly]

LOL, Sacha. I wasn't even sure if robots could be vampires. Rhia was on the verge of having a go when I thought: "hang on a tic ... how the heck is the bot gonna recharge?" I've gotten quite attached to Marvin. Until now I never really had much use for servos, but he's getting to me. He doesn't feature enough in the story, but I'm sure that he will come into his own ... eventually.

[Lynet]

I have a coffin which my non-vampire robots use to recharge. Works great, and I don't think it's because of any hack. Everybody in the household, in fact, wants to use the coffin, so I have to keep the door locked all the time unless sending a robot in to recharge.

So I think Marvin can be a vampire. It's easy enough to check the coffin recharge effect.

Chee-Z's robot Bender was a vampire. Very funny to see a robot with fangs. Are you around today, Chee-Z? Am I right?

[Mirelly]

Why do things always decide to happen in the wrong wretched order?

With our little one expected toward the end of the first week of autumn, I have been saving up my vacation time, so I could be home with Brighton when the baby decides to grace Penn Vale with his or her presence. But the music industry is no respecter of a sim-womb’s schedule — and it has to be admitted that a baby cares nothing at all for the demands of the music industry. Suffice it to say that on my first night off the phone rang to tell me that the lead guitarist of Zed Leper Lyn had broken his strumming thumb and the studio urgently needed someone to play in his place at the final recording session for the band’s new album, Sultanas Offswing.

Naturally I shouted and swore and refused. I tartly suggested they let the girl, who does the photocopying in the office, stand in, because everyone knows that Bijou Strongarm only knows three chords … and he only made up two of those to widen his repertoire. What can I say? They persuaded me. Hey, I’m as persuadable as anyone else if the persuasion has enough zeroes.

I kissed Brighton on her luscious lips and promised to be back in time for Ironsides (isn’t that a hoot? We both found out that we loved that show first time around — before we knew each other — then we found it being re-run on an obscure cable channel.)

In spite of trying to be cheerful, I set off for the studio in a less than convivial mood. I remember that the sky looked back at me in matching tones of sombre grey. I scowled at it and then swore at the car because the air-con had broken — again — and it was 35 Celsius and barbarically humid and the radio was receiving nothing but Thunder Squelch FM. If there was a bright spot in all of this, it was not easy to find, but it did look as if the Vale would escape the storm. The further I drove the brighter my rear view mirror’s image became in contrast to the vision I saw revealed ahead. That thought, minor and insignificant-seeming, was all the comfort I had as I headed down the Pennfield Road toward the studio. As soon as I crested the ridge, I saw that Pennfield proper was entombed in a heavy grey fug of humid, stormy air. Just before I turned into the studio parking lot, my last thought was that, at least Brighton wouldn’t be sat at home needing the lights on. It was good thought to have because it reminded to turn off my car headlights … which was a Very Good Thing as it turned out.

I was relieved to see that the legendary Martin George was in charge when I got to the studio. As a producer, he takes no nonsense. He let me know that he intended us to be done quickly, because he had a party to get to; yeah, right on Marty, a party with one — count her — guest. I wasn’t complaining and had no intention of starting. I did not comment when I saw him unplug the leads from the drummer’s cubicle and replace them with a percussion sequencer. ZLL’s bassist is actually very good when he hasn’t spent too long on the bubble blower; we were in luck. Suddenly it was all going too well. We’d just run through a first practise take when my mobile phone did its vibratey thing in my back pocket. I hate it when that happens. It always makes me leap half out of my skin.

It was Brighton. It was urgent. We were having our baby. Marty, the old dog, just sighed and said that he’d recorded my rehearsal feed, anyway, and that after he’d de-tuned it a bit and digitally broken the rhythm about, no one would be able to tell that it was my playing rather than Strongarm’s, and to get the hell out and to be in place to catch Mallory minor before he/she hit the carpet. OK, he’s crude, but he has a heart of solid bling.

I’d been told to git, so I got. If the rain was lashing down in sheets then those sheets were quilted with ponds. I got as wet crossing the car park — a mere 20 yards — as I would’ve got falling into a lake. The car windows steamed up as soon as I closed the car door, but at least the engine started first time. It was the longest ten mile drive of my life.

[Mirelly]

Memo to anyone who can benefit. Never, ever, get pregnant in winter. This past summer has been little short of a never-ending endurance test. On the one side there’s me, getting bigger by the minute; bigger and less mobile — read: like a beached whale. On the other side there’s the weather, with a much-too-canny appreciation of sim pregnancy. The last trimester, the one with all the all the heartburn and constipation and ‘who turned off the air conditioning’, is not best enjoyed during a volcanically hot USS summer. I boiled. I fried. I roasted. The last few weeks are ones I really wanna forget.

Oh, suppose I shouldn’t complain. My darling Ash was so sweet. Always attentive with a glass of lemonade, or a chilled wash-cloth … one especially hot night, he draped a wet towel over my feet and then set a fan going. Marvellous. It actually got too cold, after a while.

The night of the storm he was supposed to be on holiday from work, but he got called in late. I told him to go. The extra money would be useful and I felt quite sure that baby “Em” wasn’t going anywhere. Earlier on, I’d felt her quieten down, as if to sleep — I’d been thinking of the baby as a she since the first moment, but I held little store in my disingenuousness … besides, I would happy with any healthy baby. We had nicknamed her Em early on, the Em being for Mallory.

After Ash left for work I watched at the windows. I like storms, especially thunder and lightning. But this one looked set to miss the Vale. After a while I got tired. My ankles felt stiff and crackly and so I decided to get into my PJs and into bed, where I eventually fell asleep, to the sound of the distant thunder, while — in my mind — I tried on various baby names. Infuriatingly, none of them seemed to fit.

I was wakened by a stellar-bright blast that seared through my eyelids and my sleep. I have learned, since, that the lightning conductor on the chapel’s spire drew the strike. Well that is barely 100 yards away. I suppose that it was the sound that woke me, but it was the retina-flash — even in my sleep — that I remember …. I also remember the shock made me leap out of bed and that it was that that started the baby coming. Though maybe the baby started coming and the thunder woke me up and made me get out of bed to acknowledge the fact. (Sorry, diary, but I prefer the former. I admit that I like to seek a rational explanation, but hey, logic is pretty tedious, sometimes.)

Whatever the detail, and I’m not sure, and let’s be honest, I’ve a right to be a teeny bit vague, I do remember that one minute I was dreaming and the next I was wide awake … and panicky and … well … wet. I called Ash and told him I needed him. Now! The darling, sweetheart told me to try and relax and do my breathing exercises and he’d be with me before I knew it. I don’t know how he did it but he was beside me within minutes. He swept me up in his arms and carried me through the storm to the cradle where our baby was crying with little tiny clenched fists and screwed-up eyes and a wide, toothless O of a mouth.

When I woke the next morning I had to be introduced, again, to my daughter. By the time, Ash got to me I was a little delirious, but he had also called out the paramedics. It was they who delivered our daughter.

We chose a name for her. Born during a thunderstorm, she can only be Electra. We were so proud when we brought her home the following day. Welcome to Penn Vale, Electra.

[Lynet]

Electra! I love that name, and her very dramatic arrival in Penn Vale, too.

(And LOL about the Ironsides reruns on the obscure cable channel.)

[Mirelly]

Thank you, Lynet -- and everyone else -- who has posted nice comments. They mean a lot. There are some pics over at the blogspot version. Electra really was born during a thunderstorm ... only I got sidetracked into wanting a pic of broken waters ... lol, go figure.

Three times I ran the scenario (and all 3 ended with a girl) before I finally got myself a puddle to plop down under Brighton and boy was I amused at the irony of using a puddle from inventory when there were zillions of fresh ones outdoors. Someimtes being a goddess ain't all it's cracked up to be. At least, now, I have a lot more respect for the Real Deity. :(

[Mirelly]

Sarah
To My Dearest Daughter,

Darling this letter is difficult for me to write because I intend that it is for you read after I have gone. I want to leave this testament for you, because I must do something which I would prefer not to do. But life is filled with choices and few of them are easy to make. The one I face now is the toughest I can imagine.

You see I am now certain that the changes I have seen in you over the past months are the result of the bite of a vampire. At first I wasn’t sure, but the changes are now becoming too obvious and I fear for your future, because it is clear to me, if not to you, that you cannot continue as you are. You cannot expect to give only half of yourself to your family and career and the other half to your nocturnal fantasy life. And yes! I do mean fantasy. It is pure fantasy to expect that your friends and neighbours will long tolerate a nest of the undead in the valley, prowling and preying under cover of the night. They would seek to destroy you and all your kind.

For a long time I hoped that you would seek the cure, for yourself. You cannot be ignorant of the existence of it. What sort of doctor would you be, if you lacked such basic knowledge? However I now realise that, for one reason or another — and I can’t imagine what — you choose to remain as you are. I can’t permit that, as much I want to avoid interfering. I have striven to not interfere in your life ever since you left home, and have always been proud of being a trendy granny who doesn’t nag, nitpick and generally interfere with unasked for advice. Indeed, I try to avoid giving advice even when I am asked for it.

But it is time, Rhianna, darling, for you to come back to your family. Your daughters all need you. Poor Chloe has worked her socks off to get onto a good course at PSU, and you barely notice. Polly needs firm guidance if she’s to make anything of her future … unless you want her to major in romance … or motherhood! And as for Edith. She may not yet realise what you are becoming but she is, for certain, trying to copy you. She has our same light olive skin, even if yours is looking overly pallid these days, but Edith’s pallor is achieved by make-up, and unless I’m extremely out of touch, the goth look went out years ago and hasn’t come back … well not yet anyway.

So what unforgivable thing am I about to do? I can’t force you take the cure, that’s for sure. Even if I could, I expect that you would go straight out and find your vampire buddy again. No I need to be more cunning than that. I have been searching for something very special, and thanks to the old woman who sometimes wanders around the square I have found what I need. The woman — her name is Lila — has given me a herbal drug that will render you susceptible to suggestion.

In short, I shall visit you in the cellar this morning after sunrise and, while you sleep, I shall apply the tincture to your lips. It has a delicious, irresistible aroma, and its taste, I’m told, is equally good. Unconsciously you will lick it from your lips and I will apply more. Little by little I will administer the full dose, and then I will whisper to you as you sleep. I shall make you desire the cure for yourself. I shall make you want the trappings and pleasures of family life rather than the arcane pleasures of knowledge and learning. Most importantly I shall make you forget that you were ever a traveller of the road of eternal living death and that you preferred that to the sharper, more concentrated, pleasures of mortal existence.

I do this thing because I feel that it is the right thing to do, for my family: you my only child and your children, my three beautiful and intelligent granddaughters. It is not a thing I do lightly and for it I shall suffer anxieties and regrets, but those I must put aside for the greater goodness I see coming from my action. My only atonement is in this letter. That you will find it after I am dead and, through it, be free — should you choose it — to regain that which I am about to take away.

Forgive me, darling daughter. I don’t condemn you. Your life is yours to do with as you will, but I cannot stand by and see the children damaged and hurt. I hope that I shall live to see them grown up and settled … maybe even a wedding or two and a great-grandchild or two, but I am not greedy. I have a few years yet, but not enough; but I would never want the death that does not end … the life that is but a pale shade of the real thing.

Try not to judge me too harshly. I can only finish by saying that I am only doing the best I can.

With love,
Your Mum
xxx

[Mirelly]

I have the feeling that keeping a journal is something I should’ve started a long time ago. I have the queerest feeling that I am missing something. It’s nothing specific, nothing I can put a name to, just an uneasy sensation that I have forgotten something. The nearest I can get to describing the way I am feeling right now is that feeling you sometimes have after waking and remembering a vivid dream from the night before. And the more you think about the dream, the more that you realise you don’t really remember anything at all, except for tiny scraps of memories … like, for example, walking on thin air … except that memory seems so real that it can’t possibly have come from a dream and for a while you doubt your sanity because you fear that you have muddled dreams and reality and will never be able to separate them again.

The trouble is, I have been feeling like that all day. The sensation that something truly, immensely, important is hovering outside the scope of my mind’s grasp is more frustrating than an itch under a plaster cast. It began when I woke up this morning on the hard cement floor of the cellar. I was cold and stiff and I hurt all over and my mind felt clotted. My first thought was frustratingly incomplete: “What—?” More questions surfaced, all incomplete. The biggest was, “why am on the cellar floor and not in my—?”

The most obvious missing word was bed … but it didn’t feel right, and it still doesn’t. This has been the pattern all day. I start to think something and the object of the thought slips out of reach like a bar of soap in the bath. I have the maddening feeling that I can name the missing ‘thing’, but it won’t allow itself to be caught.

Maybe I will recover the missing memories. Maybe I am losing it and this is the onset of senility. I tried to discuss it with mother this afternoon, but she pooh-poohed the idea immediately and said I’d been overdoing it lately and that I just needed a good rest. Again, I had the feeling she was not saying all that she knows.

So I have resolved to keep a journal. I will keep it safe and private and if I am losing my mind, perhaps I will detect the change by comparing my entries over the coming weeks and months.

For my first note then I want to record that I am convinced the cellar has been changed without my knowing the reason. Again I mentioned this to mother and she laughed and said that we’d had it dry-lined months ago. I just don’t remember. There’s also a drum kit down there that I don’t remember buying and it’s in a place that looks horribly familiar and at the same time utterly strange … no, I mean wrong. It should not be there, something else should be there … I just wish I could remember what.



http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/handovergob.jpg

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http://forums.worldsims.org/gallery/files/4/9/5/4/doorgone.jpg

[DuzzyGirl]

GREAT story, Mirelly!

[Lynet]

Ditto. I like the way they're talking, but not talking.

Great pictures. (They're addictive, aren't they. :o I try to cut back, but I get all tense and frazzled and grouchy.)

[Mirelly]

LOL I like the pics because they help a story move along (I admit to pushing the ph