Stay awhile and listen to M. R. Sheffield (story in the Nov. issue) describe herself on a beach surrounded by strange men, running from swords, and what follows her heart in quotes. Maybe forgiveness?

1) Imagine a sunrise. You are a child surrounded by strange men. Describe the sunrise.

For some reason we’re on this beach and it’s beautiful, of course: it’s a sunrise – it’s yellow and red and pink; it’s purple and it’s blue and it’s gold, but the men are shuffling their feet in the sand, dirtying their nice shoes, and I’m worried when they get to work they will look scuffed – scuffed and faded as a sunrise – but something about them wearing suits on a beach in their nice shoes watching the sunrise makes them less threatening than maybe they would be otherwise, say if we were on a boat in the middle of the ocean, say if we were locked inside a mall together fighting zombies; they are more vulnerable for their finery, like peacocks bent nearly double by the weight of double breasted suit.

2) At the end of a long hallway you see a beautiful figure holding a long, delicate sword. What do you do?

First things first – any time weaponry is brandished, you run. You run run run run run. I don’t care how beautiful the creature is. The figure is. I don’t care how smooth skinned or lustrous haired. Maybe the figure is a being is a creature is beyond-human or subhuman nonhuman monstrous-human human-human or inhumane. Run. It doesn’t matter if the voice calling you is as bird song. Run when she or when he or when it slides the sword, so delicate, from its sheath. Long hallways are bullshit meant to hypnotize. Don’t fall for it, run for it, dummy, lest your body be torn asunder. Lest your heart in all its power falter. Continue reading →