duchesspariah

The young man in the photos is my brother Cody. His puppy is Orion's Akri General Deimos, call name "General." My puppy is Orion's Phantom Midnight Rising, call name "Orion."



1: Cody and General
2: Daemon (my cat) carefully investigating the puppies
3: Daemon staring at the sleeping puppies


1: Dill (my other kitty) staring at the puppies from a SAAAAAFE distance
2: General eyeing the camera
3: Orion sleeping and General putting his paws up


1: Me, Orion, General, and Cody (Left to Right)
2: Orion and General playing tug of war with me
3: Ditto


1: Orion shows his good side
2: Orion tugs on the rope
3: Puppies are konked out after a hard days play (general at top, orion at bottom)


1: Puppies are down and out. (Orion on left. General on right.)
2. Puppies are SLEEEEPING.
3. The Puppy Pile

This story is based in the world of Midnight Rising, a world I created with druidspell. However, this predates the major uprising that occurs in the year 2005. (Obviously, by the date.)

( Edit the prologue, please? Or, just give me thoughts )

Mistral's Kiss = best Merry book yet

The floor you walk on is smooth. There is no ground there. Magic begins with blood. Outside, there are trees with concrete under their roots. But I have passed the tombs of kings, regaled them with pacing, checked bins for food and wrappings. I have scoured the seas for miles, cloaked my face with ash, my fingertips opening, accepting my time.

Hey, I've posted a few stories on my blogspot account. I'm hoping that people will randomly stop by and leave helpful comments. However, just in case, I thought I would send people there.

The dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes. For me, I’m your sorrow calling in your dreams.
The dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes. For me, I’m your shadow howling in the streets.

I'm looking for constructive criticism. I don't mind "this sucks," but I want it to be "This story sucks, because (insert valid reason)." After all, it is all good and well that you hate my writing. I just want to know why. :)

Water chimes in the space between rocks. Speakers discharge, and laughter is in the air. The past divides us. Empty bottles mark the steady sweep of days. Tomorrow, I will walk the streets and steel myself for the familiar. Your eyes will not settle, a hunger. You’d be happier in your grave. When we meet, share stories, you stretch me. I see, I see a semi-circle of teeth in the dark.

I'd also be much appreciated if medium/long critiques be emailed to me also at duchesspariah@gmail.com ... if you don't want to expend the extra effort, though, I'll live.

The dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes. For me, I’m your sorrow calling in your dreams.
The dark cylinders of half-smoked cigarettes. For me, I’m your shadow howling in the streets.

Do you like this one better? I took out the "enhancements" I put in the first one.

Day 1:
My name is Bob, or so I have been told. I am a cabbage looper caterpillar, also known as Trichoplusia ni. In the words of Ric Bessin, the University of Kentucky Extension Entomologist, I have three pairs of slender legs near my head, and I have two pair of prolegs on my abdomen. I am still quite tiny, only an adorable little larvae. However, I find myself locked deep in the depths of a plastic container with holes in the lid for oxygen. Another of my siblings traveled in the same type container as I. His name is George. Unfortunately, the yummy artificial soy food fell on top of him. I wonder how he is holding it up.
I am hoping this new home will be much more pleasant than the previous one. Perhaps we will be free to eat the absolutely delicious leaves of cabbage plants and beets and other vegetables. Of course, there are a lot of scary things out in the world. Like, that evil Voria ruralis that attacks cute little caterpillars like me and lays eggs on them. After which, the little tachinid fly spawn will grown as maggots inside us. And, though we can still eat the yummy vegetables, we will die as the maggots hatch.
Then, one must consider the Copidosoma truncatellum, a wasp that attacks poor little cabbage loopers and lays eggs deep within. Why must my friends be forced to harbor the numerous beneficial, growing wasps when they will eventually kill their host?
Oh, no! How can I forget the organic pesticide called Bacillus thuringiensis? It would disrupt the happenings of my tiny stomach, and I would starve to death! Why must I worry over that, as well as the Trichogramma, Hyposoter, Copidosoma, and birds that are all vying for the privilege of digesting me?!
How scary!

Day 2:
This is the good life. No predators. No poisons. A nice warm sun shining constantly overhead, and a constant supply of food at my feet. Just think, I have at least a week and a half more of this larva stuff before I need to worry about the hard work of spinning a cocoon. Of course, I did do that molting thing. And, now I am much larger.

Day 4:
The crazy lady made me sit on a penny today. How rude!

Day 5:
Oh my leafless life! The horror! The terror! The FEEEEEAR! I looked out of my container up into MASSIVE glowing eyes of this horrid green color. They were attached to an even bigger body of the darkest black! THE CREATURE IS HERE TO EAT ME!
If only I had never grown, he would never have seen me! He would have been content with the food that the big human person gives him. But, noooo! I had to get bigger. What a fool I have been!

Day 6:
I wish she would stop poking me. What would she think if I poked her? I mean, if I had arms and fingers to poke her with, obviously. But, still, the poking is very annoying. Worse, it distracts me from the weaving of my cocoon. The time has come for me to become an immobile pupa. Goodbye, world!

Day 12:
I emerge victorious! I am a moth, and I am BEE-autiful.
My forewings are mottled gray-brown in color; my hind wings are light brown at the base, with the distal portions an irresistable dark brown. I have very cute silvery-white spots in the center of my forewing. And, there is this awesome U-shaped mark and a small circle that are connected. I am HUGE! And, I will be free!
My first experience in the outside world terrified me! I step from the plastic world I once lived onto the intensely wonderful bark of a tree. Then, out of nowhere, this ant attacks me! I didn’t even LOOK at him wrong, and he attacked me! What kind of world is this? An insect eat insect world? … Yeah, so what if it is.
Anyway, I flew away to a large bush. From here, I will wait for nightfall. Then, the ladies better watch out. I’ll be on the prowl with my sexy new self.

September 26, 2005
10:30 pm

One more day, John. One more day.

September 24, 2005
3:54 am

What is the cut-off date for caterpillars to become moths?

September 22, 2005
11:44 pm

George and Bob are moths.

John is not a moth.

Simon is still dead.

[This could get rather boring.]

September 20, 2005
5:15 pm

I arrived home from my meeting with Natasha, flopped down into my chair, and I saw the most amazing sight! George had returned. Not only had George returned, George was a moth! Immediately overcome with gladness, I sailed through the door of my apartment and released him into the web-free bush out the back door that once bore Laura's nametag (a completely different story).

John, though, is the prodigal caterpillar. He is a disappointment. Only mothhood will restore him to my good graces.