A terrible, terrible thing happened yesterday.

But it’s not what you think.

It’s not the incident during which I was sexually assaulted. It’s what came after that.

I came precariously close to forgetting who I am.

Most of you know me as HRH, Princess Scribe (issues royal wave). However, some of you know me by another name – SheVour.

Who is SheVour? SheVour jogs, usually around 5 miles, but has been known to hit 9 if Mercury is out of retrograde. SheVour scales chain-link fences in order to save pudgy pups wedged in drainpipes. SheVour takes care of elderly women who have fallen on the sidewalk and scraped their knees. SheVour pulls 4 consecutive all-nighters in order to get an episode through post. SheVour kicks ass.

I was telling a friend about the incident; I recounted what the police suggested: “You have every right to jog on the streets or outside, but you might consider doing it inside. On a treadmill. In a gym.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said.

Bullshit indeed.

While I thank the officers for being so kind to me, and treating me with kid gloves, for I was feeling quite fragile, I have to say that their suggestion is pure bona-fide cattle droppings. It’s a fear-based reaction to stranger danger. And that is what is wrong with our society – we have turned into a nation of quaking cowards, lining our abodes with technology: home theatre systems, gaming systems, streaming everything, home gyms, so we no longer need to go outside. We’re a bunch of chicken-shits, who numb ourselves with  24/7 streams of music, videos, movies, newstainment. We blindly accept the words of the pundits – both left and right – as dogma, and we embrace Seussical radicalism – again both left and right – and call it action from the safety of our Barcaloungers.

Ahem. What was I talking about?

Oh, yes. Me.

Anyway, as I sat there in the car, listening to this bad advice, in my mind’s eye, I was standing, hands on hips, head cocked to one side, saying “Seriously?”

I’ve decided to ignore them.

I ran today. I will tomorrow. And the morrow after, and the next morrow after, and so on, and so on, and so on.

I am adding martial arts training as an additional form of recreation.

Six weeks from now, I will run that same route again. I hope he shows up. Truly, I do.

Suckit, Mr. Hands. I am SheVour.

Now, go write.

HRH, Princess Scribe

About princessscribe

Screenwriter. Creator of things. I love tacos. "Midlife on Fire" Volumes 1 & 2 now available at
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14 Responses to SheVour

  1. lizamartz says:

    *sigh* You are my hero!


  2. Who did the art? Did you have that commissioned?


  3. Yeah, baby! Seize your Inner Goddess! I love it! XOXO


  4. dehelen says:

    Women everywhere rise from their BarcoLoungers and go outdoors and scream: YEAH! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELVES, HERE WE COME!


  5. Shannon says:

    I thought of you while I was out running this morning. Stay strong, lady… I’m a big fan of the “I’m a survivor, not a victim” attitude. Don’t ever let them tell you to run in a box on a wheel like a hamster – what, and waste this beautiful weather we pay high rent to enjoy?


  6. Diane Curran says:

    Reclaim the night, the morning, the streets! You go, girl!


  7. Mark Mathia says:

    Courageous. Sorry it happened but couldn’t agree more. How about running with your labrador…if Shevour has Shedog. Poodles don’t really count in the epic battle to save the streets.


  8. mynewyearchallenge says:

    That post was very inspiring. You are so right that in our world today everything seems to be handed on a plater and yet we wonder why we are the way we are. What happened to good old fun in the outdoors, entertaining ourselves with what was around (not a whole bunch of toys), etc. Thank you so much for this post. I will head your advice and become my own version of SheVour! : )


  9. Cher says:

    Love your strength of spirit! Sad that women have to take up Martial Arts just to feel safe in today’s world, but it’s a wonderful way to feel more secure and discipline the mind and body. Think I’ll sign up too!


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