A Sad Day

by Michael Seese

The world seems a little heavier these past few days. As I mentioned in my previous post, last weekend we went to the annual music party in Scenery Hill, Pennsylvania. It was a wonderful event, though bittersweet.

Then came the sucker punch.

On Tuesday, we got an email from our friend Ray, who said the Inn had caught fire. For all intents and purposes, it burned to the ground. The only reason it didn't literally was because the exterior walls are all foot-thick blocks of stone.

Our loss -- that of a place we loved to meet friends -- is trivial compared to the loss suffered by the owner, our friend Megin. She and her son got out unscathed. But Megin lost her livelihood and her home. (She lived on the third floor.)

You can Google "Century Inn fire" to read about it and see pictures. But here's one -- probably copyrighted, but I don't care -- which really hits home with me.

Forty-eight hours before these pictures were taken, my family was sleeping in the room circled in red.

 

 In one of the articles, the head of the local historical society said it was like a death in the family.

He's right.

Three Flashes

by Michael Seese

No, I'm not talking about a thunderstorm. Below are three flash fiction pieces all together. I didn't get a chance to do my usual Saturday + Sunday posts because we were out of town, at the annual music party in Scenery Hill, PA.

Always a good time, though this year's event was bittersweet as our friend "Jake" Yothers, the driving force behind the party, passed away last winter.

But the show must go on.

As must the writing. So before we headed southeast, I managed to knock out two pieces for Flash! Friday, and one for Janet.

For Flash! Friday, our novel prompt was The Great Gatsby. So we needed to include two elements from:

* Conflict (choose one): man vs man; man vs society
* Character (choose one): nouveau riche, jealous husband, shallow socialite
* Theme(s) (choose one): obsession, prohibition, the limitations of wealth
* Setting: 1920s New York

And this picture, if we wanted.

I came up with "Money Can't Buy" and "Birds." (For the record, I came up with concept for "Birds" first, but wrote it second.)

My first three attempts missed. But the fourth was a direct score. I watched with detached satisfaction while flames licked the paper. As yet another thing of value was being consumed before my eyes, I folded the next $100 bill into an airplane and consigned it to a fiery demise.

Despite the uneasy silence which now owned our house, I didn't hear my wife enter.

"It's after midnight. Come to bed."

"I'll be up in a few."

I glanced at the mirror above the fireplace as she left. She turned to the right, much like I've found myself doing of late. It's a slightly longer route. But it doesn't force us to pass that room.

After dispatching another dozen Benjamins, I slogged out.

To the right.

They say money can't buy happiness. That may or may not be true. But it sure as hell can't buy a cure for cancer.

-----

The day did not dawn black. It just seemed that way.

Do birds see in color? Or is it just dogs that are confined to a black and white prison?

I wonder if prison is as bad as they say.

When they say someone eats like a bird, what does that mean? Birds eat all the time.

I wonder how my family is going to eat now?

What does it mean to say someone has to eat crow? What do crows eat? Humble pie, perhaps.

I don't remember most of what Mr. Charles Mitchell, the stockbroker, said. Something about "excessive leverage." All I know is that he ended with, "Your money is gone. Out the window."

He followed shortly thereafter.

As I stood on the ledge, looking down at the red mass that used to be Mr. Charles Mitchell, the stockbroker, I had but one thought.

I am a bird.

Janet asked us to incorporate the words


remove
escape
away
lull
spare

I used them in "Escape."

 

When there is no prison, there is nothing to escape from.

Except boredom.

And loneliness.

And emptiness.

And Corn Flakes for dinner. Again.

And the occasional blissful bout of silence.

And the screams masquerading as lullabies.

And the fists which, I came to learn, sting less with each passing year.

But other than that, nothing.

Out on a lonely highway, I finally found freedom. Unfortunately, freedom also came with a flat tire, and no spare. I'd had to remove it to make room.

The flashing lights circling like vultures told me I won't be getting away.

But neither did he.

So we'll see Monday how I did. What do you think?

Two In A Row

By Michael Seese

First the commercial:

I recently published a long short story, Rebecca's Fall From... to Amazon. Tomorrow (Wednesday) it is free. (Otherwise, it's $0.99.) If you've got a few minutes, PLEASE download a copy. Truthfully, I would love to hear your feedback.

Why is it free on Wednesday, you ask? 

Because I am celebrating TWO WINS IN A ROW!

I didn't get a chance to post my latest Flash! Friday entry on Friday or Saturday, because we took our trip to the Century Inn for the music party. (Loads of fun.) By the time we returned on Sunday, I learned my short story, "Alone" had won. I am only the second two-in-a-row winner.

This is the photo we worked from:

Here is "Alone."

They’re all dead. And it’s my responsibility. Mine alone. I am the Captain, after all.

The scalding sands -- and the memory -- may well have been the fires of Hell. With no clouds above, the sun is a relentless, yet honest, adversary. I wondered if I had erred. Should I have done otherwise?

When setting sail, some of the more superstitious men voiced concerns.

“Trafficking is wrong.”

“They’re just children.”

“Using them like that is against the laws of man. And God.”

But lucre has a way of muting morality.

As the storm turned their ship into kindling and their bodies into chum, the crew looked to me for guidance. They prayed I would help. I turned a blind eye. Indeed, not only did I ignore their pleas, I doubled my vengeance. Because they were right. Their actions were against the laws of man.

And God.

Such is the burden I bear as the Captain of all men.

And here are the comments of judge Aria Glazki.

Where do I even start with this story? It stayed with me as I read the others, which may say it all. “Lucre has a way of muting morality” is a very strong center for this piece — that awareness of man’s fallibility, while also a distance from understanding that draw of riches, highlighting the difference between man and God, in a story that on the surface only likens the two.

The initial misdirect of the Captain’s involvement that makes such perfect sense in retrospect; the repetition of the line “against the laws of man. And God,” coming first from the doubt of those involved in a heinous choice, and second from the weary resignation of the one charged with being the “Captain of all men”; the chilling and poignant message of the burden inherent in being God; the pain and the solitude of being the one responsible… Overall, there’s just so much in these few words.

Was the Captain arrogant in creating man? Were the men arrogant in praying to the Captain while knowing they broke those aforementioned laws? Is the very expectation of them being good, and the vengeance that follows when they’re not, also arrogant? An answer isn’t simple in this incredibly complex, thought-provoking story.
 

My interview will be posted here tomorrow.

And as always, feel free to share your thoughts on "Alone."

 

Music Fest Part 4

I'll definitely finish the story tonight.

As I mentioned a few posts back, the actual party is Saturday evening. But getting to Saturday evening requires getting through Saturday day. With three kids away from home--and therefore away from all of the their toys--that can be a challenge. We went to the Washington County Fair. $9 a head to get in, including the kids. But at least the fairground is ALL UPHILL! Every way you turn, it's up. It's like an Escher painting. That place could use a funicular. My wife later commented, "You would think they could have found level ground somewhere."

But we persevered.

I think I mentioned that the Saturday evening party starts in the gazebo out back. Of the 150 or so attendees, perhaps 50 bring an instrument of some sort. There are a lot of guitars, of course. But we have mandolins, fiddles, banjos, drums, a bagpipe, and lots of voices. In previous years, a Japanese woman brought her Shamisen. At least I think that's what she played. I googled "Japanese instruments" and found a picture that looks like what I recall seeing. So it really is a musical feast, with various sounds and styles everywhere.

This year, we did something really smart: we hired a babysitter. We didn't foist all three kids off on her. We just used her as a third set of hands to maintain the 1:1 ratio. After all, there are woods all around, a pond, and 30 feet from the inn's front door (admittedly a hike, but doable nonetheless) is a 50 mph highway.

Suffice to say, in previous years it was a little hard to relax and enjoy the party. But this year...

Underscoring just what a good decision we made in hiring the young lady, at one point I was sitting on the gazebo's patio, with my daughter in my lap, talking to my friends Lisa and Denny. (More on Denny later.) I said to them, "This is why we hired a babysitter. I can sit here with her on my lap and talk to you both. I could not sit here with her on my lap, watching one run around, and talk to you both."

Parents of two kids have no idea how good they've got it.

Around 9:00 or 10:00, we got the children up to bed, and then re-joined the party. Or better said, parties. By this time, people have split off. Some are still playing in the gazebo. Others congregate on the stone patio above the gazebo. Still others play on the front porch. I usually camp out on the side with the aforementioned Denny.

Denny is a good cat. He plays a lot of 70s "traditional" acoustic stuff (Eagles, CSN). That's not always my first choices of genres. But I know how the songs go, if not the actual chords. And Denny is a very good guitarist and singer; I truly respect him and enjoy working with him. And, between the two of us, we probably could play every Beatles song. So there's a lot of Fab Four as well.

Denny and I played until around 12:00 or 1:00. Then I went inside to get a glass of water, and wound up staying for an hour, as a few folks were hanging out and playing in the tavern: Billy Idol (again), Cure, Mazzy Star. Now you're talking my music!

So to bed around 2:00, and up at 8:00 or 9:00. Then we had breakfast, checked out, and headed home, stopping at our friends' house in Washington to visit with them and the out-of-towners who had been staying there. We got back on the road around 2:00, and made it to our house by 4:00.

Then unpack, laundry, dinner, bath, bed...in other words, the real world.

Until next year.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

...well not completely different.  But I've been posting this week about our experience at the music weekend at the Century Inn. I had planned on finishing up that joyful sonic tale, but this just in:

I completed Udopia! Really!

In a previous post, I said that I had finished it, but acknowledged that what I meant was that I had managed to join the beginning and the end. The literary golden spike, if you will. 

So the past couple of weeks have been an exercise in filling in the gaps, correcting glaring errors, and embellishing. And I have filled, corrected, and embellished to my heart's content.  

It's just north of 39,000 words, and covers 81 pages. I have two weeks until it's due in the inbox of the Main Street Rag. I plan to tap my buddy Bill (though he doesn't know it yet), an experienced newspaper man like myself, to proofread and edit.

Two weeks ago, I felt as though I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now I'm out of the tunnel, and chuffing (sorry, I read a lot of Thomas these days) to the station.

Woo-hoo!

Music Fest, Part 2

So to continue my story...

The Century Inn is a magnificent place. As the sign out front says

it has been in operation since 1794, and was a "popular stop for stage coaches and waggoners." As an aside, this sign was damaged a few years ago; our friend Dave rebuilt and carefully repainted it.

It's no exaggeration to say that every time I go there, I am amazed to think about the history of the building and grounds...how many people have walked through its halls and over its lawns.

The original building (I have a picture of the front in my previous post) is a three-story stone structure. There was an addition put on at some point. I'm not sure when; I'll have to ask Megin some time.

Inside, when you walk from the old section to the new, you pass over an old stone threshold. Take a look at it:

You can clearly see it's scalloped, no doubt the result of centuries' worth of boots scraping on it.

The walls are covered with period art. In our room, was this:

Though it's a little hard to see, among the words stitched on it you can read, "Cynthia Barr was born May 21 1770," and "Cynthia Barr is my Name & with my needle wrought." The date on it reads March 8, 1786.

I don't care whether or not you're a history buff. The Century Inn is just a breathtaking place to visit. I'm fortunate to have lucked into a group of friends who found it for me. Otherwise, I might never have experienced it.

I can envision that some day, some piece of this time capsule of American history will find its way into a poem, story, or novel that I write.

Music Fest: A Great Weekend!

We just got back from our annual music party in Scenery Hill, Pennsylvania. I'll go into more details in a subsequent post or two. But I thought I'd give the overview tonight.

The event started as a pig roast at the family farm of my wife's friends (well before she and I met) years ago...perhaps the 1970s or 1980s. But from what I've been told, it got out of control when friends started inviting friends, who started inviting friends...  

So it went on hiatus. But Jake brought it back about a dozen or so years ago at the Century Inn in Scenery Hill.

The Century Inn was established in 1794, and is the oldest operating inn in America. I think George Washington did sleep there.

The party itself is Saturday from 5:00 to ??? in the gazebo out back. And it's huge. Probably 150 people show up, and nearly half bring an instrument of some sort. But on Friday, Jake and the out-of-town folks are there having a more intimate gathering. Even though we're only about 2 1/2 hours away (and therefore could come out Saturday afternoon) we always show up Friday. When you walk in the front door, there is a center hall which leads to the back, with the stairs ahead and just off-center to the right. But a sharp right turn takes you into the tavern.

Back before we had children, we usually would enter, see our friends singing, playing, and drinking in the tavern, and just drop our bags in the hall, get out our guitars, walk in, and sing and play until about 2:00 a.m. Then we'd find our room, go to bed, get up, and repeat. The kids have changed the routine slightly, but not much.

 In my next post I'll write about some of the highlights of this year's event.