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Papoose Doorbelle

Papoose is a technical writer, technical editor, copy-editor, web designer, programmer, publisher and technical trainer with a degree from Rutgers University and additional coursework at Chubb Institute and NYU-SCPS. Papoose specializes in educational game theory for younger generations.

Fantasy Papoose PG-7
Fiction for All Ages by Papoose

Bees Need to Eat
Poem about bee food by Papoose

Spoon & Fork
Cutlery-based limerick by Papoose

Never Sunny In Brooklyn
Short prose poetry piece by Papoose

French Pig
This is the first poem Papoose ever wrote at age 9.

French Pig II
The naked pig drama continues by Papoose.

The Distraction Prelude
One of the first fictional pieces written by Papoose

Backstroke
Prose poetry piece by Papoose

Morning After
Romantic fiction short story by Papoose

The Kitchen
Dark romantic fiction by Papoose

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Witch Exiled

Witch Exiled "Bring this witch before me," states the queen. "Witchcraft falls under my jurisdiction," argues the goblin king. The queen looks over at her husband. Her head turns slightly, signifying the anger she is restraining. "Here she is," calls out a royal guard from behind the audience in the royal court. A pathway clears up as two guards emerge at the other end of the room, holding a witch's arms at her sides. She is slumped over, showing visible signs of physical abuse. "Bring her forward," orders the queen. The royal guards march her down the path cleared by the standing audience. Her feet drag as her body is pulled before the king and queen. "This is out of my hands," the goblin king states calmly. "I didn't know!" The witch calls out, barely lifting her head to speak. "You didn't know what?" Asks the queen, "you didn't know it's against goblin law to practice magic in the ro...
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Stone Flight

"Lady, I got two months to live," I explain. My legs trembling beneath me like some stoner just caught his buzz and can't stand on his own two feet. "That may be, but I can't let you on there with this," she argues. Her voice firm, and her eyes confirm she is unconvinced. She whispers into the mouthpiece of her walkie-talkie something garbled that I can't make out; my hearing obscured by the drugs taking their toll on my body. I lost my sense of smell earlier this year. Suddenly food lost its flavor; the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong until an assistant asked if maybe I just lost my sense of smell, then suddenly it became clear that it wasn't anything serious. "Get me your supervisor," I demand. She squares off her footing and places her fists on either hip, standing firmly as if waiting for backup. Sure enough, not a moment later two other men show up, armed and just as serious. "Sir, he'll tell you the same th...
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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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