Leila has chosen a dark and disturbing piece this time. Get yourself a whisky, make sure all the doors are locked and have a look at this one:
You don’t go to Ashlie Allen Literary Estate looking for a good time. The sun doesn’t come out much there, and when it does it only does so to make it easier for things to find you. Labels such as “Horror” or “Dark Fantasy” or even that dreadful “Speculative Fiction” doesn’t quite put a tentacle on Ms. Allen’s singular style. Although (as such happens in The Violin He Played Downstairs) little moments pop up and cause you to flinch, it’s the overall disturbing nature of her prose that makes everything she has published on the site special. I’ve said it before, but her stories are like having a stranger suddenly sit at your table and tell you a story you’d rather not hear but cannot resist.
Q: When the New Yorker published Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery, the magazine and author were overwhelmed with “What’s it all about?” type of questions. In Jackson’s biography it states she found it amusing because there was no deeper meaning; the piece was written just as it came to her. I imagine that you go through the same thing. Although everything that happens in this piece is clearly explained, I can see where the incongruity of the denouement can frustrate literally minded readers who cannot let themselves go. Do you find yourself having to deal with “What’s it all about, Ashlie” questions?
Q: The MC is loyal to Abramo, even in the end. Do you believe that this stems more from curiosity than affection?
Q: Has having one person in three spell “Ashley” when they write to you help fuel the darkness inside?