Friday, December 21, 2012

Part 1 in Chinchilla Series-General Information and History



Many people have seen their little faces in the cages at pet stores; their squirrel like bodies, bottle brush tail, long whiskers, and seemingly-too big for their body-ears running around the cage. Children run up to the cage and most adults are attracted too. Then they are turned off by the little knowledge available and the sometimes hefty price tag attached to the little critters. These mysterious little rodents are Chinchillas. They are related to domesticated guinea pigs and the large wild Capybara, but their exact evolutionary link still eludes scientists.
In the wild chinchilla’s would have roamed the Andes Mountain Range.They live in desert-like areas that receive very little rainfall and have very little vegetation. Chinchillas live in colonies of 20 to 100 members, usually with familial ties to each other. Their gestation period is approximately 111 days, with one or two young born with eyes open and fully furred, unlike other rodents who are born with eyes closed and no fur. These new arrivals would become part of a colony of 20 to 100 members, their nests made in the crevices of rocks and burrows in larger plants.
These wild colonies were situated on the western side of the Andes Mountain Range in South America. Wild Chinchilla populations were found in what is now Argentina, Peru, and Bolivia. Most of the colonies were on the northern-facing slopes. The area is desert-like with very little rain fall and vegetation. Perhaps this is why modern day Chinchilla’s like to search and scrounge for food. Their ancestors would have had to find food where other animals couldn’t survive. They receive most of their water from the dew left from the early morning on plants and rocks. Their body is able to function off of that and the moisture found in the plants they choose to eat.
The name Chinchilla derives from the Chincha tribe. These people would use the Chinchilla for food, clothing, blankets and pets. After the Chinchas were conquered they were forbidden to wear Chinchilla furs and only the Inca royalty who had ruled them wore the furs. The incoming Spanish found the little critters and started bringing the luxurious furs to Spain. This was the start of the Atlantic fur trade; which paved the way for explorers later on in history bringing the tiny creatures into the United States.  

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Reflection on Class 414

       Walking into the class room on the first day, I had no idea what a Zine was. Now I have produced many of my own and have learned to love the process. Everyone in the class has different strengths, and all of us love seeing those played out. And we all have our weaknesses, with which the others all help to iron out and make smooth.
        I was hesitant at first, I had no idea what a Zine was, what Zine culture was or even how to set up and run this blog. But I took a deep breath, and tried anyways. Because that is what this culture and class is all about-trying out new ideas and working on your own craft mostly independently but also in conjunction with others. I feel that this class, English 414 best exemplifies the Zine culture. No two of us are alike, and yet we all support one another in our work. I feel that our class has provided me with the authentic Zine experience even better than Zinefest did.
        I have really enjoyed learning about self publishing, and loved seeing my work put into book form. This experience has made me realize that I really want be a published author and to have my work put out into the world for people to enjoy.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

DreamScape



That night her dreams turned into nightmares.
She was standing on an open plain; the ground was dusty and crumbled beneath her feet. The wind whipped through her hair, forcing it loose of its plait and into her face. Impatiently she pushed them out of her eyes and behind her ears in a vain attempt.
That’s when she heard them. Clear strong notes came to her on the wind. As they came closer she had to push down the panic she felt as it rose up and was grabbing at her heart.
Looking up, dark figures appeared, first looking like nothing more than vague shadowy shapes, but as she watched, they became more distinct. A tail appeared, long and snakelike, then haunches came into focus, the skin bulging with muscle underneath them. The figures continued to circle, only teasing her with a glimpse of a talon, or tooth, or wing.
They swooped down, one only a stone’s throw from her. Finally recognition rang: these were dragons! Turning to look fully upon the one that had landed, she was astonished at the dragon’s appearance.
The scales were not like polished gems as the stories went, but rather were a molted, scratched surface. Its color was black, but because of the scales, the color looked dull, dead, and listless. Its talons were stained dark, they were not ivory, but a reddish black shade.
But what startled her the most was the dragon’s eyes. They were white, just ivory white. There were not irises, no color, just white. A dragon’s eyes were supposed to be full of fire, joy, laughter, emotions. This dragon had nothing.
“My master wishes to speak to you, little girl” hissed a strange voice. Looking up in shock, she saw that the dragons rider was nothing more than a figure draped in a thick black cloak, the face hidden within the cowl.
                Again the rider re-stated his command. Riona had to fight down the panic that had gripped her heart with its icy cold fingers.
                She couldn’t respond, her mouth felt like it had been locked shut. She couldn’t move, her thoughts became scattered, she couldn’t even remember her own name. To her further horror, a bone white, sickly thing hand emerged from the riders sleeve.
Captivated by the hand, and frozen in place because of the fear gripping her heart, she didn’t notice that the other dragons had landed and had formed a circle around her.
The hand moved to point directly to her heart. In response her heart started beating, and beating louder and louder until she was sure that the rider could hear it.
“Ahhh, yesss, you are his daughter. My master will be very pleased when I return to him with you.” The voice inside of the cowl hissed again.
But hearing her father mentioned, broke whatever hold the rider had over her. She had never known her father. But just the reference gave her the strength to summon her power and keep the icy fingers away from her heart. It warmed her enough to ask the strange rider questions of her own.
“Who is my father? And who is your master?”
But before the cloaked rider could respond, a sword seemed to grow out of his chest, point first. Instead of being shocked the creature laughed. It was a high, cold, bone chilling sound.
“I knew you would come to save your whelp, you know you can’t kill me from there.” Twisting his arm around, the rider pulled the sword out, and threw it into the circle he and his company had formed.
The sword fell to the left of her. She bent down to examine it. The ruby in the hilt looked dull, there was no sparkle. The blade itself was remarkable. It glimmered and shone under her gaze. Only a single line down the middle of the sword, meant to drain blood, marred the surface of the blade.
Intrigued by the blade, she reached down to pick it up. It looked so bare lying there without someone holding it.
“Stop! That is not for you.” The voice hissed, but she wasn’t listening to him. If he had called her someones whelp, he could only have been referring to her father. Then if this sword had been his, it was hers by right of inheritance.
She grasped the handle, and lifted. To her surprise the sword was lighter than she had thought. Everything faded, the riders were gone, and the plain that she had been standing upon was gone.
Instead she was back in the courtyard she had been in before. The same chairs were around her, except this time she was standing and the sword was in her hand still. The man with the beard was there, he came walking around a column, though she didn’t hear any footsteps.
“Why did you bring me back here?” she asked directly, holding the sword made her feel more protected, despite the fact that she had never held one before. It felt like an extension of her arm.
She could see that he was laughing at her as he answered. “I brought you back because the Diajin would have taken you it I had not.” Seeing her confusion he explained. “The Diajin was sent to retrieve you for its master, the one who calls himself emperor. You would have died along the way, or at least when he pulled you back out of the shadows you would have. Traveling like that is not open to mortals.”
“But why would he want me?”
He looked strangely at her for a moment, like he didn’t understand what she had said. He sat down abruptly in a chair, and shook his head as if he was trying to clear his mind of something. Looking up at her, his eyes were troubled, but he held out his hands to her, and she went to him without thinking.
His eyes met hers, and he held her right hand in his large ones. “You are very important, I cannot tell you now, but believe me when I say it.” He stood up, still holding her hand.
Placing a hand on her cheek, he spoke quietly. “Riona, Rhy’dages tai’sai, you need to wake up now.” The background started fading as he spoke. “Riona, Rhy’dages tai’sai, you need to wake up now.”
He started to grow blurry, but his hand was so warm on her cheek, almost to the point of being unbearable. She heard his voice one last time. “You need to wake up; you don’t want to miss this, Rhy’dages tai’sai.”

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Zine Constraint

Do people really ever listen anymore? More and more I am seeing people with blue tooth, ear-buds or cell phones glued to their ears. People say they are good listeners, but are they actually and truly listening anymore? Or are all they are hearing is the static that is popular culture? What happens when they do listen? OR are they afraid of what they may hear? Their own mortality perhaps?

For this next Zine project I propose to actually listen, not just to the hustle and bustle of everyday life, but to just sit still and breathe with my ears and heart open to whatever will come and fill my mind and fingers for writing.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Lungs

Lungs
Lungs
Squishy and pink
if you're lucky.
Why do you betray me?
I just want
you to work.
The coughing
is getting old.
And then I remember
Grandma,
your lungs gave out on you too
only you smoked
and your lungs
turned into shriveled
black masses.
I miss you.
You would have
been proud to know
that I'm graduating
with honors.
You would have loved to
be here, but
your lungs couldn't
take it.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Hatching (Posted for a friend) :)



I woke with a start; my cheek really was burning up. Sitting up quickly I threw my pillow onto the ground to avoid starting a fire. The pouch underneath was steaming through the skin. I called my magic and opening the bag, dumped the rock onto my bed.
The veins of copper that had criss-crossed the rock were now a blazing red color, and the rock was hot to the touch. Then it started rocking back and forth, at first not very much, but then it started rocking violently back and forth.
Little cracks started to appear on the sides, and I backed away to the end of the bed, away from the strange rock that was perched on my bed.
Then it stopped moving, slowly I crept closer to the rock. I tapped the rock with my knuckle, and to my horror something tapped back. Intrigued, I picked up the rock. It was mildly warm, but nothing compared to how it had felt only moments before.
I traced the cracks with my finger, trailing them around the center circle that had been formed. Nothing had marred its surface, and now there were dozens of cracks running across the rock. I was ready to believe that I had imagined the rocking and shaking, when a small wet head with tiny horns appeared out of the rock, the shell balanced on its head.
I would have screamed had I been able to find my voice. Instead I opted for dropping the newly found egg onto my bed, and backing up frantically. I was so focused on the little creature that was emerging from the egg, that I didn’t realize I was nearing the end of my bed until I fell off.
“Oww.” I groaned, not wanting my mother to come investigate what was going on. I stayed with my back and head on the floor, and my feet and legs draped up the side of the bed.
Then the head appeared again, this time it was looking down at me, the tiny horns casting an eerie silhouette from the window. Getting slowly to my feet, I watched as the little creature cleaned himself. He stretched his neck so that his head was near my left hand. Reaching I touched his head, petting the still soft scales.
And then the pain started. It started in my fingers and hand, but traveled up and around the rest of my body. My mouth flew open to scream, but I couldn’t for fear of waking mother. I cradled my hand against my chest, still watching the creature watching me with curious interest.
‘I’m sorry.’ A small voice squeaked, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
I looked wildly around, but no one else was there expect the small creature, that I realized with a start, was a dragonette. I looked down at my hand, there in the middle of the palm was a small teardrop shaped burn, still red.
‘It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?’ the voice asked again.
“Who said that?” I whispered out loud this time, I was starting to become upset that I couldn’t find the speaker that belonged with the voice.
‘It’s me, you don’t have to talk out loud, I can hear your thoughts just fine without you yelling like that.’ I stared down at the little dragon on my bed, his baby scales gleaming in the moonlight.
‘How can you hear my thoughts, and why can I hear you?’ I thought, at the dragon, not sure if this would work.
‘I don’t know why you can, but I’m really hungry. Is there anything to eat in here?’ the dragon asked. Looking around my room I managed to come up with a little beef and venison jerky, and tearing them apart, left them on the bed in front of the dragon.
‘Thank you’ the dragon said before tearing into the jerky, which was soon gone from the bed. Looking up at me, the dragon asked ‘Is there any more, I’m still terribly hungry.’ His brown eyes had little streaks of red through them, making them quite beautiful.
‘I think we have more in the kitchen. Stay here, I’ll be right back.’ I thought back to him, still not used to the idea of thinking to hold a conversation. The dragon nodded his understanding and continued to clean his wings, spreading them to their full length, which was quite wide, about 3 times the length of his body.
I tip-toed down the stairs, and went straight for the jerky, then thinking quickly also grabbed some fresh meat. Since my sheets were dirty from the dragon, I also brought a new set, and tip-toeing up the stairs found the dragon staring up at the sky.
Smiling to myself, I changed the bed first, leaving the dirty sheets on the ground across the room. I took what was left of the egg, and placed it under the bed frame; I would deal with that later. The dragon, done watching the window for now, made his way over to where I was sitting on the bed.
He blinked a few times at me, then said ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you. Can I see?’ I held out my hand to him, the burn still was red, and stood out against my pale skin. He cocked his head, and a tear fell from his eye, landing on the burn. Instant relief flooded my skin, like a soothing balm, it cooled the skin.
‘How did you do that?’ I asked astonished. Looking up at me the dragon was slightly confused, but answered.
‘I don’t know, but I wanted you to not hurt.’ I passed him a piece of meat, and he tore into it with tenacity.
I leaned back against the wall and studied him in the moonlight. He was the size of a large cat, when his wings were tucked against his side, when they weren’t he seemed bigger. His scales sparkled in the light, a dull coppery red. But his underbelly was more of a light copper, in some places almost yellow. His neck wasn’t too long; it seemed a good length. Each of his four legs ended in a small claw, each with little white talons, seemingly harmless. His horns were also white, which stood out from the rest of him. They were small, but already looked like they could cause pain.
He must have discerned my thoughts, because he turned his head and said, ‘You can pet me if you like? I won’t be this small forever you know.’ Then he turned back to the food. Laughing at his statement, I let my hand trail over his body, his scales still soft. When I reached behind his horns, he stopped eating and said lazily:
‘That feels good.’ I couldn’t help but laugh at how he looked, stretching into my hand like a cat does. I stopped petting him, and he looked upset, but when I said it was time for bed, he seemed to accept it.
I slid under the covers, leaving the dragonette at the end of the bed. It wasn’t long before I could feel him watching me from the other side of my legs.
‘Can I come sleep with you?’ his small voice echoed in my head. Looking over my feet and legs, I nodded, and I felt him climbing, not so gracefully, over me. His expedition ended when he curled up against my chest, his tiny head the size of my palm lay carefully on my outstretched arm.
He sighed with contentment, and his body went limp. Smiling to myself, I relaxed, letting my body melt into the bed. I hoped this time my dreams would not be plagued by shadow dragons, I much preferred the little one sleeping against me.

Posted for a Friend... :) (Little to no editing)



I don’t know how long it was that I laid there, hands at my sides, just breathing, listening to the silence of the cavern.
Water was dripping in a rhythmic pattern from somewhere to my left; the steady drip-drip forming a cadence with the beat of my heart. The wind whistled softly through the cavern, barely there, but I could feel it, almost a caress across my drying skin.
“Rune” it was distant, and quiet, but it was there.
“Rune” the voice was almost muffled, like it came from a great distance. So I shut it out, it must be a trick of the wind against the rocks and water.
“Rune” this time it was forceful, not pleading, not demanding, but commanding. It sounded closer, stronger, and somehow familiar.  Still I did not rise.
“Rune!” Yes, it was familiar, and now I had upset it. Cracking one eye open, instead of the dark empty cavern, there were great pillars of white stone. The tiny spit of land was gone, the obsidian water was gone, and the night sky above me was gone.
I could no longer feel the gentle breeze across my skin, instead there was a thin dress of deep crimson. Pushing myself into the sitting position, I noticed that I was no longer on the ground, but on a raised slab of granite.
“Rune, come.” The voice was stronger, and it was so familiar, I felt as if I had heard it before today. Though looking around, I couldn’t see who had spoken, I was entirely alone in the circle. The only movement was the wind through the leaves, everything else was still. I could have stayed there and been content; the breeze was so soft and pleasantly warm on my skin.
“Come” there it was again. Not agitated as it was before, but still almost instructing me. The dress rustled softly as I swung my legs over the edge of the granite slab. My feet were bare, and when I stood the stone under them was unexpectedly warm; not at all as cold as I had anticipated.
Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about this. I had no idea where I was, and as I ran a hand down my leg, I realized that I didn’t even have the hunting knife that I always kept tied to my lower leg.
“You don’t need that kind of protection here, Rhy’dages tai’sai. Come.”
The voice answered! And there was that name again, what did it mean? The man in Talens’ had used the same words when he had left me. My curiosity peaked, I put my feet firmly down, and followed the stone inlaid in the grass down out of the pillars.
My way was shaded by ornate trees on either side. The sun was high in the sky, but I felt no heat, only the cool breeze as I strode down the path. The dress clung to me as I stepped down into another circle of pillars, this one though, had chairs arranged around one standing alone in the center. 
There were five chairs in the circle, and the chair directly in front of the center one, was high backed, and was cushioned with an opalescent cloth. As I watched the cloth seemed to change from blue, to a fiery red, then again to a shimmering white color.
I wandered around, walking between all of them. All were carved with intricate details, and all were draped in a different color cloth. One was as white, and unblemished as the clouds in the sky, another deep blue like a well of water, and yet another was a forest green which changed as I looked upon it, much like a trees’ leaves do in a breeze. The last was draped in nothing. It stood there, unadorned, and un-carved, unlike the others.
“I am glad that you found your way here, I knew you would. Rhy’dages tai’sai.” It was the voice, sounding pleased, and it came from behind me.
Turning around so quickly that my dress wrapped around me, I stood facing a man. He was taller than any other man I had ever known, but Damien. He had light brown, almost chestnut hair that gleamed with red when the sun caught it. His eyes were a bright and brilliant shade of blue, with black rimming them. They were kind eyes, the type of eyes that a person could trust instantly. My pendant pulsated warmly against my neck.
He smiled at me, a large and welcoming smile. His perfectly straight teeth were so white compared to the close trimmed beard of chestnut that covered from his lips to around his jaw.  
“Where am I?” I asked. It seemed a fitting question since it was apparent I was no where near the cavern that I had been in only a little while ago. His expression clouded, then, cleared.
“You are standing in the testing ground of new Rhyders.” He gestured towards the other chairs, “There should be three others here with me, but they are absent. And in doing so they are keeping us safe for the time being.” Here his eyes danced merrily with mischief, “Though they would have loved to be here for this, especially Erimentha.” He pointed to the chair draped in the green changing cloth.
“How did I get here?” I asked turning to face him, my back to the chair in the middle which sat unadorned as well. He sat in the chair opposite, the one draped in the opalescent cloth. And motioning me to do likewise, I sat, keeping my back straight, on the edge of the seat.  
“I brought you here.” He must have sensed my surprise, for he put up a hand to stay the question that was next on my tongue. “Please be patient, I brought you here only in spirit, your body is still in the cavern. But this was the best I could do considering the real grounds were destroyed many years ago.”
“But how?” I was still confused, and couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “And why? And what does Rhy’dages tai’sai mean? That is the second time in two days I have been called that.” My questions came pouring out, and as soon as I voiced them, I realized how childlike I must seem to him. The heat rose in my face, and he sat back easily in his chair with an amused smile on his face.
“I am sorry to interrupt.” I managed to mumble, trying to save myself from too much embarrassment. I looked up shyly behind my eyelashes to see him still sitting smiling, as if lost in thought. His expression changed subtly, and he sat straighter.
“Please do not be embarrassed, I asked many of the same questions when I sat where you now sit. I do not have time to answer all of them, but I will answer what I can in the time we are given.” He leaned down and reached beside the chair, straightening again, he held in his grasp a purse of dark leather.
“I brought you here by magic.” I gasped, unable to stop myself, he smiled even wider. “It wasn’t easy, and magic is not all bad as some people would lead you to believe. As to why I brought you here, I did that so I could give you this.” And he easily tossed the bag over to me. It landed heavily in my hands, but warmed to my touch.
“Do not open it now, wait until you leave. It will open only to you, so it is safe. Someone would sense it if you opened it now, and I also need you to listen to me fully. What I am about to say is very important, and we do not have much time.” A look of pain rapidly crossed his face, and his eyes captured mine, holding them captive.
I nodded my understanding, and gripped the bag with my hands, whatever was inside was now warmer than myself. Out of the corner of my eye, the bag seemed to glow faintly, as did my pendant. But I never took my eyes away from his.
“What I am about to tell you is of the utmost importance to this lands’ survival. Firstly, the Ryders are not dead. There are few who still fight for Acosia, but they need a leader to unite them. Secondly, while magic has been forgotten, it is not dead.” He seemed to add as an afterthought. “ And thirdly,” he was interrupted as a massive, ear shattering roar split the air, making me jump in surprise, and he looked away quickly, his eyes unfocused as if he was looking at something far away. He nodded slightly, and looked at me with a sad and pained expression on his face, his eyes quietly subdued as he spoke.
“I am sorry, but we must part now, I am afraid I have taken too much time with you, and it is taxing Dhaval too much.” He stood, and held out his hands to me, my pendant again pulsated warmly against my skin, and the bag in my hands was a warm comfort. I stood, tied the bag at my waist, and crossed the distance between us.
Grasping my hands in his, he looked down at me and said “Remember to trust no one, and to always make sure you have that pendant on you. For I can reach you then, no matter how far apart we may be.” He gave my hands a squeeze, and said “Le’s tehain, Dages va’n ech, mech tai’ sai.” A single tear slid down his face, and I raised my hand to stop its fall, lest he be disgraced.
Then he was gone, the courtyard was empty save me. The sound of water slowly dripping returned to my conscious. I closed my eyes in a weak attempt to remember the exact lay out and vivid colors of the courtyard, and the image of the mysterious man with the kind eyes and loving expression.