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About

Papoose Doorbelle is one of the pseudonyms used by a Rutgers University graduate, (along with two other schools) where Papoose minored in Philosophy and majored in a financial field. Papoose studied writing prose and poetry as well as many of the various philosophies and religions across the globe.

Papoose was born in a small country in the Mid-East in the 1970's. Arriving to the US at a young age, Papoose required ESL tutoring to learn English in order to continue elementary school, so Papoose focused primarily on math and science as a result.

Papoose eventually became a technical writer, combining math and science skills with a love for the written word. Having won an award for Papoose's contribution to authoring a comprehensive brand standards style guide resource, Papoose began exploring the opportunity of assembling an international English style guide, offered globally, to improve communications by the use of interactive games and interwoven fiction tales. The result was a continually-growing, fiction-infused grammar guide collection of puzzles and word games.

Papoose is a master of the English language and believes communication and community are the lifeblood of a functioning global Utopian society. May we enjoy peace together.

- Papoose Doorbelle,

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A Witch is Born

I wish there was something more I could say to explain why I'm so closed off from the world, but I've never really had a close relationship with my feelings. When I was young, I experienced every negative event a child should never even bare witness to, let alone shelve upon her shoulders as a growing collection of future obstacles to personal success. My world was small, and it shrank every year as I continued to remove people from my circle of trust.
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Bar at the Edge

Papoose Fiction: Edge of the Universe At the edge of the universe there lies a bar with no bartender and a barstool holding the only patron. The stool is wood, three legs triangulating down where the sheetrock hammered together into the shape of a bar is at its straightest, allowing for one person to lean comfortably forward for the remainder. Times were hard on Vegas Argo, he had to steal what he couldn't borrow. Off to war or more alarming is the sorrow that follows tomorrow's horrors as arrows burrow passed the marrow but lessened in pain because Sir Argo's thoughts tread in the shallow. Nobody's Fault But it's not his fault; it's what he was taught when his teachers were forced to slave all day just for a few scraps of bread and enough change left over to keep the perpetual cycle as vicious as possible but not enough for the herd to grow suspicious something auspicious has turned them towards a meal quite delicious but hardly nutritious; three times a...
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A Single Breath 1

A faint breath breathed in through my nose. She barks. I love her, even if I hate her bark. I pull another slow drag off my cigarette. My lungs fill with regret as my ribs begin to ache. The slow exhale races against the inevitable cough It burns! The pain building at the base of my spine with each successive cough. I feel a tingle at the base of my torso. A sensation I detest with every inch of my ailing body. The tingle transforms as it always has in the past. Then comes the inevitable bolt of lightning shooting up from the base of my spine along the two sides of my vertebrae as liquid pours into my lungs from the microscopic tears these hard, loud coughs have forced open inside of me. The feeling, which I cannot describe any more painfully or vividly than excruciating pain behind my ribs, is definitely something I would wish upon my enemies during an attack against me, but otherwise, I can't imagine desiring such cruel punishment against anybody capable of feeling such p...
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