The Fantastic Accountant

This story was inspired by a photo taken from a collection of stock photos. Click here to see them.

enhanced-22521-1400016682-17 Artemis never thought life as an accountant would be exciting. Still, working for his dad for the summer would be easier than flipping burgers at the Shake Star.

Dad pulled the Cutlass to the curb and nodded. “You go on ahead. I’ll park and be in in a minute or two.” His smile was reflected in his one remaining eye, the other covered by a black patch.

Artemis nodded back to his dad and opened the door. The Texas heat slammed into him. He grabbed the key from his pocket as he closed the heavy car door and walked to the front door of the firm of Gordon and Shumway. Dad’s partner, Allen, had been dead for five years, but he kept the Shumway name on the door. Tradition was very important to him. He unlocked the door and walked into cool darkness. The security system beeped at him until he entered the four digit code.

The smell of damp and old paper filled his nose. In spite of the advances that the early twenty-first century provided, dad still had a love of paper. The walls of the ten by twenty foot office were filled with books from floor to ceiling. They weren’t all accounting books, though most of them were. He’d grown up in this office for the last sixteen years and a good portion of one wall was filled with science fiction, fantasy, and the biographies of his favorite sports stars and political figures. There were also a few ancient history books, ones focusing on the ancient Middle East.

He cut on the lights and moved from computer to computer, booting them up. The two ladies that were dad’s office assistants, and had been since time immemorial, would be here in about a half hour. Dad always turned on their computers for them, so he thought it was the least he could do. Finally he sat down at his. The MacBook was already on and he checked his email. While he was double checking the spam filter he heard the door open.

Dad had taken a little longer than usual. He held a box of Dan’s Donuts in one hand and a battered leather case in the other. It wasn’t his usual briefcase, so Artemis raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Dad was a creature of habit, to a fault. Seeing some new gear, or rather in this case new old gear was interesting. If it was something he needed to know, Dad would tell him.

Dad walked around the counter and put the donuts out for the ladies and his son. He went to the door to his own separate office and fished out a set of keys. He was the only one who had access to the ten by ten office beyond. He unlocked both sets of deadbolts and Artemis heard the chirping of the other alarm system. It’s chirping stopped and Dad called to him. “Come here Arty.”

Artemis was getting to the age where “Arty” was starting to chafe. Mom encouraged him to let it slide. Dad was a lot older than most of Artemis’ friends’ fathers. He was almost old enough to be Artemis’ granddad. His own dad was long dead. Still, hopefully the nickname would fade soon. He flipped the laptop closed and walked quickly to the office.

The lights flickered on and Artemis looked around. The shelves in here were filled too, though not with books. Calculating devices, everything from an ancient abacus to adding machines that were new when dad was a boy, and measuring devices, like sextants and surveyor’s tools, had their places. Dad had ensured that he knew how to use every single one.

“Sit down, son.” Dad scratched at his bare scalp. “We have something to talk about.”

This couldn’t be good. He ran his fingers through his own thick, black head of hair in a mirror image of the motion. The “tell” was a Gordon male’s way of expressing discomfort. “What’s up?”

“You’ve agreed to work with me and we’ve talked about how important this is to me.”

Artemis nodded. “You want to pass the torch.”

He smiled. “Exactly. I know that you think being an accountant is boring.” He held up a hand to stifle any reply. “There are days when it’s sheer drudgery. I won’t lie. I want to show you something today that will inspire you to believe that it can be your future, boring or not.”

Artemis fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

Dad’s eye narrowed. “I saw that.” His voice held some humor. He got up and retrieved the abacus. The counters were made from jade and the wood was almost as dark as Artemis’ hair. He sat is on the desk between them. “I know that you know how to use this, but there’s something I haven’t shown you.” He picked it up with his left hand and held it like one might a violin, nestled against his cheek. With his right hand he flipped a few of the counters, seemed to listen, flipped a few more, and then smiled. His right hand then flew through a series of gestures, almost like sign language.

A breeze began to blow through the room and Artemis could smell flowers. He looked around the windowless office. The sound of birds filled the air. The wall to his left, what would have been the rear of the building started to fade and he could see light filtering through as though coming through a thick curtain. He stood, pushing back the chair. “Dad. What’s going on?” He looked over at his dad.

He’d stood and was now holding the heavy leather case. “Well, son, I’m an accountant in more than just this world. Decades ago, Shumway and I found that abacus and discovered that it could open a doorway to another universe. We explored it and discovered that the king of the country on the other side of that wall was being bilked by his advisors. We showed him the advantages of spread sheets and modern accounting practices. He showed us magic and adventure.”

Artemis blinked, hardly believing it. “So you didn’t lose the eye in a college fencing match?”

Dad ran a finger across his patch and shook his head. “Dragon.” He smiled. “It’s time for this year’s audit and I thought I would take you with me. You game?”

Artemis still didn’t know what to make of the jungle he could now just make out through the office’s back wall. He thought of all of the books on the shelves out there. He wanted to live the adventure he’d read about. “Yes, sir!”

“Well come on, Artemis.” He pronounced his son’s name with the timbre one would use with an adult. “Let’s go see if I can show you that there are a few things about this life that you might enjoy.” He handed his son the abacus and together they walked into the green light of the far off jungle.

Bundles And Buying Direct

twostepshell One thing I love about the internet and what it allows creators to do has to be buying directly from the people I want to support. To that end, for my own fans, I’ve been using Payhip for the last few weeks to sell my e-books and audio books directly (or at least more directly than through Amazon/Smashwords). I get a much bigger slice of the pie, 95% instead of 35-70% depending on the price point). When you buy from me there you will get DRM free versions of my stories that are compatible with any e-reader. They give me the option of uploading samples and covers. It’s fairly bare bones, but I like it.

Last week I decided to try bundling through that service. Each “item” I sell through Payhip can have as many electronic files as I want up to one gig in size. With that in mind I uploaded three YA titles and four thriller titles as two separate bundles.

The thriller bundle includes four stories where people face inner and outer darkness:

“Bitter Release” – A young soldier finds himself trapped in a cave in with only a case of absinthe and his memories to keep him company. Will he escape or find his only release in the embrace of the green fairy?

“Let Go” – Faced with the atrocities he’s committed to keep his wife and son safe and provided for, Chris is forced into a bitter decision. He must find a way to let go of his family and move on. But in a world gone to hell, is there any other choice?

“Fetch” – Father Ian promised his parishioner to investigate a mysterious sighting at the nearby cemetery. When he does and finds nothing out of the ordinary, he arrives at the man’s house only to find him dead. Evil is roaming the Irish countryside and has its sights set on the good Father.

“Two Steps From Hell” – Laurent, a faerie sorcerer, lived for centuries. When it ended, instead of drifting into oblivion he awoke in Hell. After countless years of indescribable torment, a half-faerie half-human conjurer summons him to 21st century New Orleans. Laurent now has twenty-four hours to discover who used him as an unwilling murderer and to avoid a return to damnation.

The YA bundle includes:

“X Marks The Spot” – A young boy goes digging for treasure and finds more than he bargained for.

“Bobby and His Dragon” – Young Bobby sees a dragon in his back yard. Why is it there and can he catch it?

Ginnie Dare: Crimson Sands – Ginnie Dare is the communications officer for her family’s space faring shipping company. They arrive at Eshu for a routine supply drop and discover that the entire settlement’s population has vanished. Their search of the site reveals nothing out of place, except the people, but ends in a tense confrontation with the natives. During the conflict, Ginnie discovers an alien artifact that may be the key to diffusing the conflict. Can she decode the artifact before it’s taken by the Sector Defense Force? Will it help them to discover the missing colony’s fate? Or, will the whole thing spark an interstellar war?

Both sell for $4.00.

I also put up a bundle that contains an e-book and audio version of “The Ocelot: With Power Comes Responsibility” for $1.49

Kayla Charney discovers that she’s different than the average teenage girl. Somehow she’s gained the strength, speed, and endurance that even top athletes would find amazing. What role did her parents play in them and how will she decide to use them?

I’ll continue to put out thematic bundles and audio/e-book packages. If you want to support me financially as a writer then this (and or becoming a patron over here) is an excellent way to do it. This is a good place for you to let me know what you think about this idea and how I can best get you the content you want to read.

Worst Santa

This story was inspired by a photo taken from a collection of stock photos. Click here to see them. (I decided to leave this photo off to save your eyes.)

Being a successful thief didn’t get off to an easy start. My first ten or twelve jobs very nearly all ended in disaster. Thankfully none of them landed me in prison, though I have done my fair share of time. The one that sticks out most to me is the third one. It taught me never to break into a place without thoroughly checking it out first.

It was late December. I’d had been living rough for a couple of weeks. Christmas in eastern North Carolina can be a wet and miserable affair, but it’s not as cold as it is up north. I’d managed to break into a beach cottage on my first night in town and while it didn’t have power or water it at least gave me a break from the wind. I had my eye on a big house a bit further up the beach. They would have some electronics and maybe some other valuables I could steal and pawn.

I parked a few blocks away from the house in the battered Volvo wagon I called home in those days. I didn’t know much back then but I knew enough not to park my getaway vehicle in an otherwise empty driveway when I was in the course of my business. I pulled the collar of my navy windbreaker up and my toboggan down. The wind was howling that night.

I broke into a run and soon I stood in front of the big house. It was up on stilts and the side facing the street had a dozen windows. They were all boarded up and I didn’t see a single light. Some of these places got rented out, even during the off months, but I’d kept an eye on this one and there had been no activity. I went around to the side and found that the gate was locked. I grabbed the pickets and vaulted over lightly. I wasn’t that smart, but I was strong and light on my feet. I landed on the concrete pad and saw that this place had a huge pool and a hot tub. They were both covered for the winter.

The windows on the ocean side were also covered, the exception being the four sets of sliding glass doors. No light came from any of them. I went up the back steps, any creaking noises covered by the incessant howl of the wind. I walked up to the first set of doors and pulled out my picks. These locks were always pretty cheesy. The only thing that could really put a damper on picking them would be a wooden bar laid on the door’s track. There was no bar. I set to work and discovered that the door was unlocked.

You’d have thought that this would be my first indication to get lost. Like I said, back then I wasn’t too bright. I figured that maybe some lazy maintenance crew had left the door unlocked. I slid the door open and eased my way in. The air was warm. I smelled cinnamon and apples. Dumb as I was, even I figured that meant someone was home. There were no cars out front though. My greed got the better of me and I guessed that it had been rented, but whoever it was had gone out for dinner. Occupation meant that there would be some portable goodies.

I moved towards the front of the house, keeping my ears open for any noise. My eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness, so making out a light coming from under a door near the front of the house was easy enough. I skulked up to the door and put my ear against it. I couldn’t hear any noise coming from the other side, though I blame the howling wind, audible even inside the house for what happened next.

I turned the handle and pushed the door in. The naked, overweight man sat on the edge of the bed. A Santa hat sat perched on the top of his head and he was tweaking his nipples. Meanwhile the lady between his knees worked south of the border pretty vigorously. Neither of them noticed my presence. I backed out of there faster than a cat who’d had its tail stepped on. The door sat open a bit, but given the noises I could now plainly hear I didn’t think anyone would notice until I was gone.

It only took a few minutes for me to get back to my Volvo and beat it down the road. It took me a number of weeks to erase that mental picture from my brain. What I never erased was the lesson I learned about doing the pre-work.

Indie Titles Worth Checking Out

I put out a call for the best indie book of the year so far and here are some answers I got. Feel free to share your own in the comments below!

saga Saga of Menyoral: Hard Luck Dingus Xavier has the worst luck ever. As if just being named “Dingus” weren’t enough, he’s the red-headed son of an elven mother and a human father.
He might also be a berserker — and those are just the things he knows about.
Sir Vandis Vail has always been too busy serving his goddess to consider training a Squire, but when he comes across a lynch mob attacking a young man, he can’t let it stand. In obedience to his divine Lady, he takes the boy into the Order of the Knights of the Air as a Squire. Dingus Xavier, though, is far more than he bargained for: a gifted ranger, but deeply damaged by a life of abuse. Vandis doesn’t know how to begin to help Dingus face his pain, and he can’t handle his own paternal instincts, either. When a rival religious order targets the Knights for extinction, it could be the straw that breaks Vandis’s back.

Tim Callahan said, “She creates an interesting set of characters, especially the main character Dingus. It’s a pretty typical coming of age in a land of magic kind of story, but it was told very well and I found myself thinking about the characters long after I finished reading it. I got the second book the next week and I’m looking forward to reading it to see where the story goes.”

broken_magic_frontBroken MagicIt’s senior year of high school, and everyone but Neil seems to know what’s next. All Neil wants is to be free: to survive his last year, and keep hoping something better is waiting for him in college. Then a musician named Celeste comes into his life.
Celeste doesn’t fit into Neil’s reality. She’s a runaway, chasing an impossible world. She can’t be like everyone else – and when he’s around her, Neil’s not himself, either.
Helping Celeste in her quest for magic – and the father who abandoned her to search for it – might cost Neil everything.
But when you don’t know your place in this world, and someone offers you another…is everything too high a price to pay?

@jphilogden said “Broken Magic captured a similar HS senior experience for me, then used a concept of magic to discuss identity.”

tanglewood TanglewoodAfter a mysterious meteorological event, a group of strangers calling themselves Castaways settled on the wrong side of the tracks in the sleepy beach town of Tanglewood. Afraid and suspicious of anything that crossed the sky, they kept to themselves. But since their arrival thirty years ago, they’ve gradually integrated into society. They own businesses. Sit on the city council. Their children go to the local schools. They’ve been accepted, although not entirely embraced.
And they’ve always kept their secrets.
When sixteen-year-old Hayley is uprooted from her comfortable life and sent to Tanglewood to live with the father she barely remembers, she learns she’s anything but the normal teenager she thought herself to be. Her father is the leader of the Castaways, and he’s brought Hayley here for a reason he refuses to share.
Struggling to fit in, Hayley finds herself being judged for a background she didn’t even know about until coming to Tanglewood. Why is the quirky Castaway girl so hostile towards her? What’s with the darkness surrounding one of the popular boys? Why does the alien world Hayley keeps seeing in her dreams feel so familiar?
When a frightening threat arrives in town, Hayley discovers that her place in Castaway society has been preordained. But destiny in Castaway society is governed by math and science. Can one sixteen-year-old girl who’s failing physics manipulate a mathematical history that has remained unchanged for thousands of years?

@philogden said “Tanglewood also captured a HS experience for me, focusing on identity. The prose was such a draw, made me feel the town.”

angel Evolution: AngelCandace Bristol has always been obsessed with comic books, but in a world where the nightly news often mirrors these inked stories, her dreams of becoming a real superhero could actually come true. After being rescued by members of the government’s AdvaNced Genetic EvoLution (ANGEL) Project four years ago, getting recruited for this elite team is all she’s wanted.
Now 18, she’s finally reached her goal after years of study and physical training, but little could have prepared her for life as a genetic experiment. As though coming to terms with her new ability to manipulate water isn’t tough enough, she never expected to be swept off her feet by one of her fellow recruits.
With genetic alteration, the threat of physical and mental instability hangs over every superhero like a shadow. When one of their own tumbles over the edge of madness, Candace will have to choose between protecting the world, and saving the one who holds her heart.

Chris Morse said “Fun concept? Solid storytelling? Great world-building? Steamy sexy-time scenes? Take your pick. :)”

Interview With Jeff Hite (Three Questions)

Jhite (This is part  “Three Questions With Xxxx”. If you’re interested in taking part click here and fill out the form.)

Jeff and I have been friends for years. He was part of the staff at Flying Island Press and his love of the short story form is nigh legendary.

1) You’ve written a lot of short fiction and have been an editor in the short fiction market. That makes you something of an expert in my book. What is it that you love so much about the format?

Short fiction gives you just a glimpse, just a taste of a world, but when it is done right, it gives you the whole story, in a format that you can easily digest in one sitting. I really enjoy that part of it. I think some of it comes from having a busy life, some of it comes from my short attention span, and some of it just comes from being able to get the whole story in one shot. Make no mistake I like really in depth stories, and really enjoy novel length stories but there is just something about the shorter stories that draw me to them.
Why do I write them? Well, I think that is simple, because of all the reasons above, and one more, they challenge me to fit an entire story into a small package. I have to cut all the fluff, and all the extra stuff, and just tell a story, and I like doing that.

2) It’s not a great paying market these days, though there are ways to sell them. Why do you think that is?

It really comes down to delivery method. The short answer is ebooks and podcasts. It is more complicated than that, but really it is the ability to publish a single short story and get it out there, that was really not available 10-15 years ago. Before the popularity of ebooks and podcasts, if you wanted to sell a short story you had to go to a magazine, Of which there were very few, and their slush piles must have been huge, because publishing and printing a short story yourself just didn’t make any sense economically. Now you can write a short story and publish it yourself in ebook format. To the end “user” there is no difference other than cost, between buying a short story or buying a novel length work. Now that these outlets exist, there is a market for them, and you can see that in the rise in the number of emagizines, that just didn’t exist 15 years ago, and short fiction podcasts such as the Escape Artist series, The DrabbleCast and even Cast of Wonders, they, while “free” to the consumer, are paying markets.

3) In moving from writing short fiction to longer form fiction what are the challenges you face?

I really like longer stories. I love the way that you can dive into someone else’s world and get completely lost. That is the great thing about novel length works. And short fiction is not just a shorten version of a novel length work. I think that idea has been the hardest one for me to over come. As I have said many times before, I am a, “by the seat of your pants” writer. I very often have no idea of what a story is actually going to be about when I start writing it. That presents a real problem when you start to write long works. You have to not only know where the story is going, but also be able to hold all of those ideas in your head while you are writing. See my above note about short attention span, and just repeat that here about 5 times. Most of my short fiction works are under 10,000 words. That length I can keep in my head without notes, longer than that I have to keep some sort of notes, and referring back to those notes while I am writing or editing, really kills my momentum. So learning to control a story, and plan it out have been my biggest challenges when working on longer works.

I am a little busy right now, please leave a message at the beep?
[beep!]

No?

But I am really busy..

[Beep?]

Still not buying it huh?

Ok then I guess…

Jeff Hite, A.K.A. The Dark Lord Hite, A.K.A. Dr. Evil-n-Carnate, A.K.A. Steve Wolencheck, current occupant of cubical 3257J, affectionately referred to as “that jerk who eats lunch in his cubicle even though we have a lunch room and he really should eat there,” is first and foremost a husband and father. He and his wife and their ten minions I mean children, live in their orbiting space station. No, that burned up in the atmosphere last year. They live in their undersea lab. No, that is not right either, it fell to crush depth three months ago. Well where ever they live that is where you can find them.

By day he is an IT professional, by night When he and his partner in crime, Alex the 486 Beowulf Super cluster are not trying to take over the world they run the “sheep dating service,” also known as sheep breeding, for the local farming cooperative. When he can fit it in he writes short fiction about the fantastic, is a reader with Cast Of Wonders, and an assistant audio producer for Get Published.

He and his alter ego Michell Plested are Co editors of A Method To the Madness: A Guide To the Super Evil and the forthcoming book There is a Magic Portal Under My Sink.

He and his wife home school their minions, I mean kids and teach NFP to anyone who will listen. The rest of his life is devoted to his first love, his family, their chickens, sheep, dogs and now to appease the cat owners, one of those as well.

Other projects:
A Method To the Madness: A Guide To the Super Evil
There is a Magic Portal Under My Sink
Cast of Wonders
Get Published (Audio Production)
Flying Island Press

Monte and Molly Meet the Mummy

Cyril and Monte I’ve been re-working Monte and Molly to make it more of a chapter book. I thought I’d post the first few chapters to see what folks thought.

Chapter One – Arrival in Egypt

Molly Zealander looked out the window of the big jet. The sand below them screamed past. She thought she could see the Great Pyramids in the distance. The eleven hour and fourteen minute flight had passed quickly thanks to the Millwrights and Mechanics Guide that Cyril had given her in New York City. The gigantic, fierce looking nanny had a soft spot for his charges and knew them well. Thankfully her brother Monte had slept most of the way.

The pilot’s voice came on over the intercom. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for flying Egyptair. The temperature at Cairo International Airport of ninety-six degrees Farenheit or thirty-six degrees Celsius. It’s a sunny day and we hope that you enjoy your stay.”

The landing was smooth and Monte leaned over her lap so he could see the runway. She didn’t have the heart to push him back” The wheels squelched as they met the black top and the sudden slowing of the plane made her stomach do a little flip. It took forever for everyone to get out of their seats and get off of the airplane. She tucked her book into the tan messenger bag daddy had given her for Christmas last year. It also held her journal, a collection of pens, and a set of archaeological tools that she hoped she’d get to use; dental picks, paint brushes, and a small trowel.

Monte huffed. “When are we going to get to see the pyramids? I’m hungry. Can we get some lunch.”

“Calm down.” Cyril rumbled to the boy. “We’ll get to see them this afternoon. Your Mum and Dad made arrangements for a private tour this afternoon. There will be lunch for us in the car.”

The trio made their way through the airport. Monte wanted to stop at one of the junk shops and at a juice shop, but Cyril kept him corralled. The air smelled different here. Molly loved that about each new place they visited. Once they got outside she could really tell they were in a new place. The heat hit her like running into a wall. A man with skin nearly the color of his black suit waited near an old car with a sign that had their last name on it.

Monte smiled at the fancy car. “We get to ride in that? I call window seat!”

The driver nodded at Cyril and the children and opened the door for them. There were two bench seats in the back facing each other. The man sitting in the seat closest to the driver looked like he belonged in a museum. He smiled at Monte as he bounced across the seat opposite and pressed his nose against the window. “Welcome to Cairo. I am Doctor Badawy and I’ll be showing you around my city. Your parents wish that they could be here, but you will see them this evening at the hotel.”

Molly nodded at Doctor Badawy . “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” She missed Mum and Dad, but she was used to not seeing them as much as she liked. They were always so busy.

Monte pulled his nose away from the glass and turned to shake Doctor Badawy’s hand. “Glad to meet you. When do we get to see the mummies?”

Doctor Badawy smiled. “We will see one when we get to the museum. Sadly you won’t get to see any at the pyramids. They’ve all been moved out long ago.”

Monte frowned. “I was hoping we could dig one up.”

Cyril patted him on the knee. “While we’re here you’ll have a chance to do some digging. Who knows what you’ll find?”

The car pulled into the crowded streets of Cairo and made its way slowly towards the museum.
Continue reading Monte and Molly Meet the Mummy

Candy Man

enhanced-21277-1400016574-8 This story was inspired by this photo taken from a collection of stock photos. Click the picture to see the rest.

“Stanislaw! Stanislaw Kaczmarczyk, you get your scrawny butt back in here.”

Stan’s mother’s voice cut through the neighborhood like a rusty buzz-saw through sheet metal. It never failed to get his attention.

He ran at top speed, having no desire to earn her anger. When he rounded the corner he saw the old man standing there. Dressed in a dirty wife beater, a ball cap turned the wrong way ’round, and holding both a cigar and a massive lolly pop, creepy didn’t even begin to cover it. There was a mischief behind the thick lensed glasses that Stanley could feel even ten yards away. He wanted to veer off course, but the street on one side (DON’T PLAY IN THE STREET STANISLAW LEOPOLD KACZMARCZYK!) and menacing shrubs belonging to Mr. Allman on the other meant that he was like a prize calf in a chute.

He came to a stop at least six feet from the old man. There wasn’t room to pass him without coming within arm’s reach. His muscles couldn’t even twitch.

“S’matter boy? Scared?” The old man’s voice wasn’t at all what he expected. It was deep and gravely, but there was a kindness in it. “Ain’t nothin’ ta be scared of.”

“Ma says not ta take candy from strangers.” His words came out in a whisper. “Please mister, let me by.”

The old man smiled. This time there was a little bit of menace. “Do ya always listen to yer Ma, boy?”

The question stopped his mental processes. Of course he didn’t, but when there were times like these (WERE THERE EVER TIMES THAT WERE EXACTLY LIKE SHE DESCRIBED? NONE OF HIS FRIENDS HAD EVER JUMPED OFF A BRIDGE!) he needed to make sure that he did the right thing.

“I ain’t takin’ yer candy mister.”

The old man scowled. “I ain’t even offered any to ya. Ya ingrateful pup.” He pointed the lolly pop at Stan. “This is my candy. The likes of you ain’t worth it.”

Now Stan was a little offended. How was he not worth it? “Sorry mister. Hey can I get by now?”

“Not before ya make a choice. Ya can either take a bite of tha candy, and I’ll let ya get on home, or ya can cross tha street and go ’round. Either way ya show how brave ya are.”

Stanley looked out into the busy street. If he crossed over, moved down, and crossed back his mother would surely know. If he just took a bite of the candy then there’s be nothing saying to his mother that he’d done anything wrong. But if the candy had poison or razor blades or if the man grabbed him then he’d be done for. He felt the tears start to slide down his cheeks. “Please mister. I don’t want no trouble. Just let me by.”

“Make yer choice, boy.” The old man growled.

Stanley looked at the lolly pop and out into the street. Then he looked right. No one had ever told him not to go into the bushes. He dove through the hedge, scraping his bare legs and feeling them yank on his hair. He ran the eight steps that he felt sure would take him past the old man, took two more for good measure, and then dove back through the bushes. He earned a poke to the eye from one branch, but inside of a breath he was back on the sidewalk.

A glance to his left revealed that no one was there. He panicked and looked right, but the street was empty in that direction too. Confused, he broke into a run, hearing his mother’s second call. He got to his front steps, out of breath, flesh stinging from the bushes, but feeling triumphant.

“Stan, what in the Good Lord’s Name have you been up ta?” His mother had her hands on her hips. She didn’t look angry so much as concerned. Here was her boy, bleeding and out of breath.

“Makin’ good choices, Ma. Sometimes they hurt, ain’t they ain’t always the easy ones ta make, but it’s the right thing ta do.”

She shook her head, bemused, but ushered him inside.

Our Chief Glory

1024px-Samuel_Johnson_Statue“The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.” Dr. Samuel Johnson: Preface to his Dictionary.

I was listening to a podcast this morning and this quote came up. It was interesting, because someone said on Facebook yesterday that our greatest citizens are our soldiers. I think the sorts of people a society values says a lot about that society. I try to be as egalitarian as possible, but on this matter I tend to side with Johnson, though I wouldn’t limit it to authors.

I look at where our money goes, not only the American government, but also us as individuals. I don’t think we spend nearly enough on the arts. I like to think there was a time when as a nation we spent far more on encouraging the arts. I know for a fact that our country has used projects like the Works Progress Administration and the National Endowment for the arts to pay authors, artists, musicians, and playwrights. Both programs are controversial and I’m not saying that funding for the arts begins or ends with one’s government. I am saying that it seems to me as a society we will lose out if we don’t use our money, personal and public, to support more arts on the national and local level.

I want to see more books and plays and symphonies produced by our children. I believe that it can do nothing but benefit their studies of the Three Rs. I want to see more things like Detroit’s writers-in-residence program, Write A House. I’ve watched as a focus on the arts and locally produced goods caused my own downtown to blossom.

Soldiers, fire fighters, police officers, and others that put their lives on the line are brave and I thank God daily for their sacrifice. I’m not for a second putting anyone above them. They need to earn far more than they do for the necessary services they provide. I would argue though that we as a nation would always fund them over and above the arts because we see the black and white benefit that we receive. That’s  less true of the creative people who add beauty to our lives and examine creation for universal truths that they then bring to light.

I do think that we need to spend less on our nation’s military efforts. Much of that money can be better spent on our infrastructure and education. I want to see more of it go to support poets and sculptors, wood carvers and weavers, novelists and cellists. I’d love for others to look at this country as a bastion of the creative spirit. That’s the glorification of something I can get behind.