![]() You use the knife carefully, because you know it doesn't care who it cuts. It's like a knife in the mind.Art is a localized illness, usually benign - creative people tend to live a long time - sometimes terribly malignant. The arts are obsessional, and obsession is dangerous.There are madmen and madwomen in padded cells the world over who are not so lucky. I didn't write them for money I wrote them because it occurred to me to write them.I know that, and I also know that if I'm careful to keep my foot under the covers, it will never be able to grab my ankle. ![]() The thing under my bed waiting to grab my ankle isn't real. In the stories that follow you will encounter all manner of night creatures vampires, demon lovers, a thing that lives in the closet, all sorts of other terrors. That sort of thing doesn't happen, of course, and we all know that. Because if a cool hand ever reached out from under the bed and grasped my ankle, I might scream. I'm not a child any more but.I don't like to sleep with one leg sticking out. ![]() We'll talk about the way the good fabric of things sometimes has a way of unraveling with shocking suddenness. ![]() We won't raise our voices and we won't scream we'll talk rationally, you and I. Let's talk very rationally about moving to the rim of madness.and perhaps over the edge. But for now it's on, and so let's talk very honestly about fear. Sometimes when the wind blows the way it's blowing now, we lose the power. The house is empty as I write this a cold February rain is falling outside. ![]()
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