My Work

Sic Transit–A Short Story

        “Sic Transit”

           Traveling to a far-off city, I had for company only my papers and the books that led me to this train-car. Opposite me sat a woman, smiling at the passing landscape, but between my plans and her secret joy, we paid each other no heed and never qualified as traveling companions.

More nervous now, I pulled out my books, worn by love and use, and began to review my notes. This caught the woman’s attention. I felt her gaze before she spoke.

“I thought as much,” she said, half smiling, half snarling. “Think you’re so brave, so right, don’t you, boy?”

(more…)

Urgent Fans Make Me Type Faster: I’m Live on Patreon!

7 October 2018

Hello, dear readers!

Over the last two years, you have helped this blog go from an erratically produced collection of book reviews to a somewhat-less-erratically-produced labor of love.

You have helped me put my fiction out in public for the first time. Well, excepting the middle school literary magazine…but let’s not think about that.

*shudders at the thought of her middle school writing*

You have stuck with me through the dry spells, the shameless introduction of ads, my verse of questionable meter.

Because of your unwavering support, I have decided to devote more time to this blog, making sure to get work out to you on a weekly basis.

(For real, this time, I swear)

To help support my work, I have launched a page on Patreon!

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For those of you unfamiliar with Patreon, it is an online platform that allows fans to become patrons of their favorite creators. (I hope I might be one of yours, dear reader)

In exchange for their monthly pledge, patrons get access to rewards, in addition to extreme bragging credit. You are following the footsteps of the Venetian Doges and the Medicis by supporting the arts!

With less murder, of course.

Please do not blame your murders on this blog. Lorenzo the Magnificent. Wikimedia Commons.

For just $1 a month, patrons will receive a mention in a special edition of this blog every month they are a patron. If you are interested in your business or organization taking the credit, reach out to me by DM on Patreon.

$5 a month gets you access to a weekly patron newsletter and plenty of behind-the-scenes looks into my creative process: drafts, inspiration sources, angst. It’s more of the writing you know and love, even before your patronage helps me produce even more of the writing you know and love.

There’s a virtuous cycle here, you see.

Patreon is going to be especially important for me so I can put together a real, physical “To-Review Queue” have the resources to buy all the books, etc. It will also keep me accountable to a schedule and order for reviews.

Because when you owe people money, you type faster.

Benozzo_Gozzoli,_lorenzo_il_magnifico,_cappella_dei_Magi

Much faster.

Thank you for supporting me on Patreon. You can follow this link to my profile.

To Pompeii

 

View of Vesuvius, from the House of the Centenary, Pompeii. Courtesy of National Archeological Museum of Naples and Wikimedia Commons.

To Pompeii

24 August, anno 832 ab urbe condita

From Baiae I write, Severus Tarentius,
to tell you things you must already know:
business is good; the weather is fine.
I have only just come from Rome,
bringing with me two new handmaids
for my dearest wife, Aurelia.

One is a Greek woman, a skilled hairdresser—
sold, I think, by our feckless Senate colleague
Syrianus, to pay his debts.
I recently beat the old goat at alea, by the way,
a victory decisive as Scipio’s at Carthage.

The other is a rather unfortunate figure,
a slave woman from deepest Germania,
driven, the trader told me, across the river
that divides our empire from their lands
by maurauding tribes out for loot and brides.

It disgusts me how
these Germanics fight among themselves.
Such suffering they cause for their own kind!
This new woman, like many others,
fled with her small child
into the arms of our legionaries
and the warm embrace of Rome.

The babe was wailing
while she was on the block.
She wailed too as we led her away.
It was really quite distasteful:
somehow, Rome’s din grew even worse.
And the smell, Severus,
I can smell it still here—like brimstone
against the salty stink of the bay

We have given her a bath.
She’ll be well taken care of now,
among civilized people.
I think I’ll call her Macaria,
for blessed is she.

What other news is there to tell…
Oh!
I have met the new emperor
–long may he reign—
and I am not impressed.

Yet Caesar is always useful, though,
so long as we are useful to Him.
Gods, this table needs a new leg!
Perhaps Caesar can grant me one of those,
so I won’t be writing in the midst of a quake?

I am looking out across the bay
towards your home at Pompeii.
It is hot, but the mountain
looks so tranquil from here.

Such is the order of our lives, Severus:
empire without end,
baths and dinners,
immovable and unchanging
as Vesuvius’ peak.

-By Allison R. Shely, September 2018. 
All rights reserved.

Cole Destruction

The Course of Empire: Destruction, Thomas Cole, 1836. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Happy Tidings from the Death Card

It’s Been A Tough Year So Far

I’m not one much to talk about my personal issues on the internet, but since the events of the last six months have had a major impact on my (lack of) output for this blog, I think I owe you, and myself, an explanation.

There is a lot I can’t tell you, a lot of the details, to protect the privacy of the others involved.

Suffice to say, it involved a lot of death.

There was a brush with physical death, on Easter Monday, in a car accident.

There was a death of self, as this “adulthood” thing forced me to let go of old notions of who I am and who I want to be. This came about largely because of a death of faith, of faith in ideals and institutions that formed me.

There was the death of a friendship. I expected this one to be the worst of all, when I worried about it years ago, or in the last year as part of me, a part unacknowledged, suspected it was coming.

In all, it wasn’t so bad.

 

File:RWS Tarot 13 Death.jpg

XIII. Death. From the Rider-Waite Tarot, ca. 1909. Public domain.

You see, the death card almost never means death, at least not physical death.

I don’t believe we can foretell the future, but as a writer I am very interested in the symbolism of the Tarot deck.

The death card of the Major Arcana gets a bad rap for being No. XIII and for being, well, about death, strangely enough. The card shows death, but only because death is necessary for rebirth.

I walked away from the accident unscathed. After five hours in the ER, waiting for the final confirmation that I had not hurt my head, I went home. There I found Sassy, a little confused about why I was late, and very upset that dinner was delayed.

In letting go of what I thought I was and wanted, I have moved forward. Now that school has been out for a few weeks, I have been focused on my first few freelancing assignments. That is the logistical reason for my long silence on this blog. I am excited to be a “real” writer now and a “professional,” in fulfillment of a dream I’ve had since I was four years old.

As for the end of the childhood friendship, I wish it had not gone down the way it did. I know people grow and change. If things had tapered off between us naturally, it would have been much easier to accept.

One of the hardest lessons about growing up is that doing everything right won’t protect you. One of the other hardest lessons is that your effort can’t make up for what someone else won’t put in. It hurt a lot at the time, and it hurts from time to time, but I find myself looking forward to the future.

I get asked why I like my “frightening” and “morbid” crime shows. As trite as it may sound: while you have to be careful not to only see the darkness, you cannot look away from death without ignoring life.

The death card is change. Time is change. Time marches on, trampling over kings like Death’s horse does on the card. Who am I to resist? What point is there in fear?

That said, I’m glad to still be here with all of you.