Stories at the Park 3: inspired by Inara Pey

Home Wildstar Beaumont John Brianna Giovanna Cerise Anibrm Jung Stories at the Park Index

About Inara

Inara Pey
Inara Pey

Inara Pey has active in Second Life continuously for almost a decade, although she joined somewhat earlier than that.

Most widely known as a blogger, writing Living in a Modemworld, she fell into SL photography as a means to illustrate her blog “travelogue”, Exploring Second Life, which runs to over 450 articles on locations across Second Life, and her reviews of art installations and exhibits in-world, which accounts for over 500 articles.

More recently, Inara has become a features writer for Kultivate magazine, and curator of Art at the Park at Holly Kai Park, where Stories at the Park is held.

Away from “work” Inara enjoys SL sailing, boating and flying, owning a number of boats and aeroplanes, and likes to fiddle around designing homes and regions – not that she’s done a lot of either recently, outside of the island home she shares with her SL partner, Caitlyn, and  re-designing Holly Kai Park.

Stories and Poems

The Lesson – Caledonia Skytower

Bridges by Inara Pey
Bridges by Inara Pey

Inspired by Bridges

He stood between the two bridges, the Master looking on with his hands patiently clasped before him.

“But Master, why is there a table in the middle of the bridge?”

Always asking the wrong questions, this one.  The master sighed, “Does it really matter?”

“What if the table belongs somewhere else? The curve of the bridge and all, it could topple easily.”

“Your task was not to question existence. It was to cross the bridge.”

“But there is a table in the middle of it, Master!”


“What kind of lesson is this anyway?”

Another sigh.  “Perhaps one of compromise.”

Morning has Broken – Caledonia Skytower

Inspired by Country Idyll

Netherwood; Inara Pey, April 2016, on FlickrCountry Idyll by Inara Pey

In the moist morning air, the family began their day.

Young William headed to the barn, already feeling the wooden handle of the hay fork cool in his hands.  The slats of the bucket banged rhythmically against little Margaret’s leg as she marched to the well to fill it.

Mother already had the hearth smoldering and was earnestly stirring something in a crockery bowl that had been her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her.  Father stooped before the fire to poke it into greater life.

“My darling?”


“How did our boat end up in the middle of the pond?”

The Ring –  R. Crap Mariner

Inspired by Underhill

“Where is the ring?” demanded Great Sauron.

After days of torture, the creature Gollum screamed “SHIRE! BAGGINS!”

Sauron sent out orcs to investigate.

Several weeks later, the orcs returned.

“Sorry, boss,” they said. “But we couldn’t find any place called Baggins.”

If Sauron could slap his face with his palm, he would. “The place is called Shire, dumbasses,” said Sauron.

“Oh,” said the orcs. “Right.”

Sauron watched them leave and sighed. “I should have made two rings to rule them all,” he muttered. “Next time, I’m making a backup.”

The Ringwraiths howled and swooped.

Sauron sent them out for pizza.

The Shire – Trolley Trollop

Inspired by Underhill

The Shire; Inara Pey, September 2016, on Flickr The Shire by Inara Pey

For Sale By Owner. Armageddon is coming. This custom built virtually indestructible 900 square foot earth house is off-grid, underground and will shelter you and your family for as long as it takes the planet to recover from global warfare.  A priceless investment in peace of mind and the survival of your genetic material, this one-of-a-kind property offers  zero interest owner financing! No money down! Fully furnished and move-in ready!

The End Times are near! Don’t be left behind! Once the power elites are blown away, it will be time for the little people to rise up, rebuild and rule!

Lord of the Pee – R. Crap Mariner

Inspired by Underhill

I liked The Lord of The Rings movies. And I liked The Hobbit trilogy, but not as much.

I saw all six movies in the neighborhood theater, but they were so long, I had to rush to the bathroom at some point during each one.

There’s websites out there that say when the best time to go is, but I never have to go right at that point.

So, as much as a large soda causes the problem, it’s also a part of the solution.

As long as I remember to wash it out before I get the free refill.

Wise – R. Crap Mariner

Inspired by Winter Break

Pandora Resort; Inara Pey, September 2016, on Flickr Winter Break by Inara Pey

In the old days, you hiked for days to reach the mountain, and climbed it to reach The Wise Man’s hut.

Now, you can ride the 7 bus from Downtown, which takes you to the Visitor Center, where you can buy a daypass for the cable car, shop at the gift shop, or dine at one of three restaurants.

The Wise Man’s Casino and Ski Resort, managed by Hilton, hosts several self-help seminars a day, and runs the best rollercoasters in the world.

I found The Wise Man and asked him for advice.

“Try the veal,” he said. “It’s great.”

Field of Mystery –  Caledonia Skytower

Inspired by Wyeth Remembered

Gates of Melancholy; Inara Pey, June 2016, on FlickrWyeth Remembered by Inara Pey

The gate was open.  Something was missing, what was it?  He scratched his beard trying to remember.

Was it cows?  No, he’d set them to new pasture days ago and most livestock aren’t smart enough to untie gates.

Was it the tractor?  No, he had just looked at the oil this morning and he knew it was still languishing beyond  the leaning oak, paint peeling and metal sizzling in the sun.

“What in tarnartion could it be?” he said aloud.  Then he stopped.

“Uh oh, we had a date tonight.”

He hustled through the grass.  She was gonna be mad!

Gates of Melancholy  by Trolley Trollop

Inspired by Wyeth Remembered

Chadds Ford. Why couldn’t it contain you Christine? Why did you open the gate, drag your body with its crippled legs through and leave? Was it something I said? Something I did? What drove you from the fieldstone hearth you tended so prudently, the carefully plowed fields that surrounded our home and brought forth the crops that nourished our children?

I immortalized you with egg tempura, an artist’s sensibility, a lover’s compassion. I could not heal your body, yet I gave you freedom. When you left, you took my own. Now I am the prisoner of an image’s fame.

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