The Killing of Sheri

If you are reading this, you may be in danger too.

Many will be now that this has happened to Sheri. Many have already perished before her.

I hope what Antony speaks of Caesar is not true -- that the perceived evil someone does is oft remembered long after they are interred – that the good they do is soon forgotten.

But there will be a few who remember and wonder at the inconsistencies in the stories that swirled around Sheri.

How could Sheri have worked so hard, so many hours, met all requirements she was given, volunteered and supported others, encouraged, befriended, wrote and stood willing to add to the kingdom? Does it make sense she would have wished anyone evil or would have been busy planning mischief for the land she loved so very, very much?

Brutus

My Brutus was someone I watched over and protected in another realm. I gave him honour and helped him. I performed the ceremony to wed him to his beloved. I was one of only two people, other than him to attend the birth of their little girl. I introduced him to new worlds and supported him always (would today but he continues to work to drive me from other lands for some reason I cannot even fathom). I hid his secret identities, even on the day of my wedding when my Queen was furious at me for his attendance.

But he has honour and power now. I have only my friends – well my real friends.

Strange, I have heard that this "Brutus" now thinks I hate him and would wish or do him harm. Perhaps I should, but I cannot. I do not have time nor the energy for hate or harm, I never have had -- only grief and pain as I cannot imagine his knife to my heart.

He Who May Not Be Named

I started this blog because of one man who touched my heart and who grew to be my muse. Someone who helped inspire me and ignite my writing as no one else ever has. We courted. We grew to be colleagues even in the real world. We partnered in the virtual world in one of the most heavily attended weddings in this virtual world. We never had time for a honeymoon though.

And then there was the tragedy of his banishment and mine too. The painful and public lynching of him with no evidence – not one shred of the promised damning evidence – was a tragedy on the same level as Julius Caesar.

Like a broken and collared slave I could only re-enter the world he and I so loved if I was seen to not cause any trouble or drama. I was never to see “he who may not be named” or speak with him. In fact this blog and his blog was regularly monitored to ensure we did not “speak” with one another even here.

Sadly, I took these restrictions on, hoping somehow I could clear his name and he would be restored to a kingdom he had worked so hard for and loved so dearly. But he would no longer speak with me for he saw my choice of the kingdom over him as unforgivable. He defriended me, muted me and made me remove every remembrance of him.

I sat in shock until I was finally found by a wonderful man who became my role-play husband and who has grown to become a good friend in real life. He has given me so much over the months while I worked to heal. The kingdom has stayed in various stages of completion and together we worked tirelessly to help see things come together, including offering significant sums of real world money as well as untold numbers of hours of work.

But “the one who may not be named” somehow always seemed to stay somewhere in the King’s shadow or in his mind. Sightings and new identities filled so many waking hours for the King, it was disconcerting. What was it about “the one who cannot be named” that was so dangerous? What did “the one who may not be named” know that was such a worry?

Yes, I really missed this wonderful man ("the one who may not be named”), we really did enjoy playing (and not that kind of play either! Pay attention, we never even had a honeymoon.). But he returned to his real life, his family, work and his horse, not even completing work he had promised to me that was so important to the re-editing of my book.

The Final Blow

When I was pressed to the wall and knew there was little hope I sent “the one who may not be named” an email to say I could fight no longer. That most of all I was wrong for leaving him -- for having betrayed him for this land. Instead of hating me or telling me “I told you so!” he simply picked up his shied to stand over my broken body and picked up his sword (pen) to protect me from the final blow. And when he relaxed but for one moment, without cause or even the courtesy of a reason, I was finally killed.

((Note: When I am strong enough again to there will be a series of articles on privacy and the right to peace and a real life when you are engaged in a virtual world. One thing Sheri has been recently reminded of is how this virtual world is a game and for fun. Yet it can strangely become more than a 9-5 job with KPIs and reports and meetings all. All that is missing is the married, barefoot and pregnant, cooking dinner every night after work and ensuring there is sufficient toilet paper in the house!))