"The Black Riders" is a short story about war-about the effect of war on those asked by others to wage it. The story's frenetic, often chaotic structure is meant to produce in the reader an echo of the disunity and disorientation experienced by the story's main character. The whole of the story is a dream, a dream which has recurred innumerable times and in countless iterations and whose central narrative, it seems, cannot be escaped. The dream is, on the whole, of things which have already occurred. As such, they are, for the dreamer, more like memories than fictions, the recurrences of an uncertain history, the reality and stability and responsibility of which the dreamer-as the reader-struggles to navigate. The story owes a clear debt to those which have come before it; it alludes to and attempts to dialogue with the work of Hemingway, Faulkner, Melville, Crane, Remarque, Cormac McCarthy, and the magical realists, among others. The story is a condensed version of a much longer piece which I have been working on now for several years. It is, I hope, a warning against the violence inherent to illusions of Truth.