Perhaps that is our doom, our human curse, to never really know one another.

I was woefully ignorant in the social graces. I was being raised, after all, by Pellinore Warthrop.

Our enemy is fear. Blinding, reason-killing fear. Fear consumes the truth and poisons all the evidence, leading us to false assumptions and irrational conclusions.

When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

But monsters, I now know, come in all shapes and sizes, and only their appetite for human flesh defines them.

My first favourite book was Are You My Mother? A picture book about a lost bird. After that my favourites changed almost yearly. I loved everything by Roald Dahl, but my favourite was probably Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. A librarian gave me a first edition of that book, which I treasure.

You are the nest. You are the hatchling. You are the chrysalis. You are the progeny. You are the rot that falls from stars. You may not understand what I mean. You will.