Love does not exist in a vacuum.
The mortals who house it in their hearts find themselves in an imperfect world.
When the beloved acts according to her nature in ugliness, what do you do?
Excerpt from THE NOT-SO-INNOCENTS ABROAD to be out in paperback this March.
{General Sherman is talking to his officers in a commandeered Atlanta mansion on the Eve of his March of Infernos through Georgia}
Sherman shrugged, “If we are condemned later, we will
claim that the men got carried away. If
we are praised, we will keep the glory for ourselves. There is a class of people, men, women and
children, who must be killed or banished before we can hope for peace and
order.”
Faint clapping grew louder and louder. I went chill.
Meilori slowly formed by the general, standing by his side, courtesy of
her strange sciences. The general
started, lost for words not just by her sudden materialization but by her eerie
appearance.
I have called Meilori beautiful, and those of you
who have read that word think you know what it means. “Beautiful” evokes paintings of the masters
in your mind and perhaps some face of an attractive woman from your past.
Meilori was of another time, another realm. To see her was to believe in the stuff of
magic, perhaps even to catch glimpses of fallen angels in the distance, to hear
lost faes’ sad laments in the twilight.
To see her face would break your heart with longing and yet heal that
heart at the self-same time. And from that
moment on, your heart would beat twice as strong as before.
What does love look like? What is its color? A white flash of fright. A billowing wave of warmth, its reach beyond
the microscope and further than the length of hope. Is it a jewel sparkling in the night? Or a whisper murmuring within the corridors
of the heart?
Love is not a shy beast to be caught but a rare
moment to be treasured. It burns within
each cell, a living seed of hope …its rays invisible to most, seen only by the
searching heart.
Even Sherman, calloused soul that he was, was
struck dumb for a moment which Meilori captured as was her nature.
“You would make war on children? How utterly noble of you.”
“Madame, this is war.”
“And you, sir, are a war criminal!”
Sherman gestured to his stunned officers. Meilori gestured as well … but with more
grace and to infinitely more deadly effect.
Ningyo’s were masters of all things fluid, and Meilori was their
empress.
The suddenly blue-faced officers
clutched their chests and reeled like sacks of flour to the carpet with hardly
a sound.
To those she considered heartless, Meilori often
forced all their blood into their hearts at once. And then, they were heartless in truth. She turned to me.
I merely sighed. Her nature was her nature. I did not cut pie wedges out of those for
whom I cared. I accepted all of them.
Sherman hissed, “What
kind of damn marriage do you two have?”
“The kind that will last, General. It’s all about intention. Meilori and I mean to see our marriage
works. It's about not losing yourself in
each other. Being together, two pillars holding up the house and the roof, and
being different, not having to agree on everything, learning how to deal with
not agreeing. Everything's a choice."
I tugged on the brim of my Stetson and said, “I choose
Meilori.”
***
I write with tunes in my head. This tune was there when I wrote of the Xanadu, the 1st Air/Steamship rising to the skies to face a battle in the clouds.
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