About the Hiatus

The Adventurous Pen was started as an online journal with the aspirations of becoming a full-fledged ezine. After an initial run, we are closing our doors temporarily to revamp while the publisher spends his days living in a cave, writing his next book. This will be followed by a round of hitchhiking and festivals throughout the summer. Expect to see us return around autumn 2014 as a leading ezine market for the adventurous spirit in us all.

-The Publisher

Publisher's Mind: Beneath the Cherry Tree

Her lips pressed against mine, soft and dripping with the taste of paradise. I embraced her longingly beneath the cherry tree’s warm, pink leaves in the early autumn sun, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist.

A new light shone in her brilliant, green eyes as the kiss I had waited for since early childhood came to end, my soft, blue eyes glowing just the same. I brushed my hand through her chestnut hair, barely able to contain my ecstasy.

“Took you long enough,” Emilie teased.

She was right. We’d known each other as long as I could remember and now we were in our mid-teens. She was my best friend, and I hers. We had only each other as we watched the world fall apart around us.

The Final War had started when we were eight. It’s crazy to think that had only been seven years before that day beneath the cherry tree. The war lasted a long three years filled with hunger and disease. Our area was too far from anywhere important in Middle-of-No-Where, Ohio to see the fires that raged across our country, but that was never much of a reassurance when every news broadcast on the television and radio that remained in-tact reminded us every day of the struggles along the coasts, knowing it could reach us at any time if the levee broke.

You’d think our parents would have stayed strong, but they had completely deteriorated by the end of the first year. Emilie’s father started drinking when her mother passed away from a particularly devastating flu that had ravaged the nation when the war began. My father just left. My mother still functioned normally during the day, keeping up with her job in fast-food for minimum wage. Once she was home it was like she just fried out, holing herself up in her room for hours on end. Eventually, she broke and the sickness got her, too. Part of me died every day I watched her fade.

I became homeless, living in a tent in some local woods. The world was burning and this place was all I had ever known. That, and Emilie would refuse to leave her father, while I refused to leave Emilie.

We kept each other company throughout countless days and broken nights filled with tears. The world was strange and jaded, but we were familiar. I held her when the bombs fell at the end of the war, but it was just as friends. It had always been that way and we were both afraid to change it.

None of it mattered that autumn day. I don’t even know what came over me. We were talking about something I can’t remember and I just leaned in and kissed her. She looked so beautiful with rose pink petals dancing around her in the wind.

I awoke from a long death beneath the cherry tree. I had forgotten what it was like to be happy until that moment when the rest of the world melted away. Emilie was mine, and I hers.

“Run away with me.”

“Only if you’ll always hold me like this.”

“I promise.”

We kissed again. I owed her a hundred kisses, then a thousand more. My cheeks became streaked with joy.

The days that followed were never easy, but having Emilie by my side made every moment worth it. With the war long gone, she and I wandered about the ruins of a once-great nation. Many cities that used to shine brightly with towering buildings and magnificent lights had been left with no illumination at all, while others had been fortunate enough to thrive under primitive, tribal-like governments. The people in those cities were usually kind, though often wary of strangers. Who could blame them? Anarchy swept the nation in the wake of the war’s end.

It was easier to live outside the remains of civilization. The country remained lawless, but the mountain kept us fed. That, and I loved the endless expanse of green; finding in it a serenity that allowed me to forget the war had happened. Emilie even befriended a hare she made me promise not to trap. I guess I grew fond of that adorable, brown ball of bouncing fur, too. I loved watching Emilie cuddle Jasper.

My happiness and pride grew with Emilie’s swelling belly. The dark storms of our past had become distant, fading memories that left the ground fertile for new life to bloom.

I was hunting when I saw the tracks. Standing out against the landscape that hadn’t been disturbed by another human for years, I wasn’t sure how to feel about the three sets of footprints I found following the riverbank up the mountain. All I knew – all that mattered – was they were heading my home where Emilie rested in wait for my return, already late in her pregnancy.

I thought I could catch up. Why had I spent so much time hunting that day? The worst part was hearing her scream when I was nearly there. Perhaps I shouldn’t have called back. Maybe then they wouldn’t have known I was on my way.

Seeing her lie there, covered in blood and peppered with bruises, I felt that last sparkle of my soul shrivel away. A blood-curdling scream rose up out of my chest as I chased after the ones who had taken her from me. I wish I could remember their deaths. Blinded by rage, I tore them apart until there was nothing left to tear.

With nothing left to keep me in the mountains, I began to wander again. It felt different, colder. I paid little mind to other people. Everyone I ever loved had gone, taking what was left of me with them. Most of the time my feet would carry me on their own accord. It’s not like I cared where I landed, anyway.

The taste of autumn’s early breeze, forgotten and familiar, filled my senses when I realized where I was. Before me stood a cherry tree left frozen by time; its soft, pink petals dancing in the wind. For a brief moment, nothing had changed. Emilie and I were still young, holding each other tightly for that first, passionate kiss.

I wept for love and for loss, happiness and sorrow. The cherry tree still stood while my world had been cut down. I lay beneath the tree, holding my love as I slept.

---

Charles Whaley the publisher of The Adventurous Pen and author of Through Kaleidoscopes. He spends his nights in a cave in the foothills of Appalachia while working on his next book. 

The Devil and the Black Diamond

Day Is Done

Down the Mine #4

Down the Mine #13

Fire On the Mountain

---

Robert Haycock

Robert Lee Haycock grew up in California's Santa Clara Valley, "The Valley of Heart's Delight," and now resides in Antioch, California, "The Gateway to the Delta."

Robert has been an art handler at the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum and the California Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco since 1988.

Publisher's Voice: Party in a cave

"Do you wanna come camping with us tonight?"

"Uh... yeah!"

Turn down an opportunity for camping? I think not! Not when I'd been trying for weeks to get a group together. Not when it was two gorgeous girls asking, either.

D and her sister, H, had flagged me down from H's white car to give me the invite. I had just started down the street, still looking sharp in the suit I had worn at an interview earlier that morning.

"So where are we camping?"

"There's this really cool cave behind a waterfall in the woods past the college. We're going to meet at the tree by the bike path at five and hike there," D explained the plan.

The tree she was talking about was down a path by the Hocking River. It grew in an arch over the path and was often a hangout for the college students to come and smoke pot. It was also the tree where D and I had first met.

As D and H were on their way wherever they had to be at the time, and I was going off for a walk, our contact was short and we bid each other adieu. Nothing was going to break my spirit now; warm weather in late winter and the prospect of spending the night beside a fire in some secluded location was all I needed to put me in a lasting, good mood.

I met up with another friend of mine to go walking with. We followed the bike path to Robbins Crossing, just past the college, and sat down at one of the tables outside some cabin. Robbins Crossing is a simulated historical village the college uses to teach life as it used to be. To my friend and I, it was just a beautiful place to relax. My friend set himself to work on a story he was developing, while I used my phone to turn on some tunes. Slow life in a fading town.

Eventually, we grew bored and decided to head back. I still had to prepare for the night ahead.

Getting ready didn't take long. I finally took off my suit in favor of some more casual attire, then rolled up my tent into my sleeping bag and fastened it to my backpack. All set. I called D to confirm the meeting location and happily set out once more.

I reached the tree a little early and decided to climb its arch to lay down while I waited.

"Chucke," I heard D call out to me.

I sat up in the tree and smiled wide. "Hey," I called back. "How have you been?"

"Good," she answered. We're actually out this way because we've got a bunch of heavy stuff to carry," she indicated the direction she was coming from.

I jumped from my perch in the tree and joined D. Her sister was further down the path, keeping an eye on the gear we were bringing along.

Once we met up with her, I sized up luggage. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah," M replied, "but it's heavier than it looks. Tent, beer, blankets. We're waiting on more people to help carry it all, if anyone else shows up."

"I bet I could get most of it. What would you like me to carry?"

"I'd feel so much better if I didn't have to haul that," D pointed to a tarp that contained the bulk of the weight, and all of the beer.

I picked up the tarp. It was heavy, but I was traveling lighter than normal and the extra weight was easy to take. I slipped my walking staff through the knot and slung the package onto my back.

"I guess we can head out, then," D announced.

The hike took us twenty or so minutes as we followed a combination of marked paths and game trails up the creek. The cave didn't go far back, but it was enough to provide some shelter. Still in late winter, the waterfall was a fractured wall of slowly melting ice. A fire pit sat in about the middle, while the walls of the cave had been graffitied with charcoal etchings. I was excited to be here.

We dropped the load we had been carrying and went to work setting up camp. My tent went up quick and easy. D and H didn't take much longer with theirs.

Once camp was ready, D piled the wood that was present into the fire pit and I got it started. Finally, we could all relax and open a beer.

My first beer gone, I figured I may as well gather some more firewood before night fell. I took off into the woods, rejuvenated and full of energy. After I had returned with the second bundle, we decided it was time to take a "safety" break and sent a bowl around.

To be honest, I kind of fancied D. Sitting beside the fire, I decided it was a perfect time to try and impress her. I recited my poem Breathless Whisper for her and her sister.

I'm just a breathless whisper

beneath the star-lit sky.

A simple spark of magic,

the feeling you could fly.

Wild through the woords, we ran;

living silver dreams,

laughing at the world,

and how siliy that it seems.

Carelessly, but passionate; 

spirited and free,

thinking of the future,

planning who we'll be.

Carried to another realm,

where everything is right,

to sit beside the fire,

all nestled in moonlight.

Both of them loved it. D even began to sing a song she wrote while I tended the fire. Her voice was lovely.

Darkness had descended and we saw someone with a flashlight approaching. We all let out howls and wild shouts at the newcomer's arrival. Suddenly, there was more beer and herb. Another bowl went around. 

Eventually, the newcomer's roommate arrived. Another group of campers later stopped by for a brief visit, as well. We drank and we smoked and reveled in the light of the fire until night became early morning. A "pow wow" in the tent turned into a cuddle puddle, and finally we got some sleep - my tent entirely unused.

Around six, D woke up and asked me for a lighter to get the fire going again. I joined shortly after deciding I wasn't getting any more sleep. 

The sunrise was beautiful and reflected off the cave walls with magnificent radiance. Once it was light enough, I gathered some more wood for the morning fire. A final bowl went around as we settled into the new day.

At last, we had to go. We took down camp and let out some final howls as we hiked our way back to civilization.

---

Charles Whaley 

Charles Whaley writes fiction and non-fiction alike with the goal of ascending to the heights of names like Lewis Carroll or Aldous Huxley. Charles believes that stories should be written every day both on and off the page; relishing the human experience of life by hiking, hitchhiking, camping and volunteering at festivals as often as possible. He edits for The Oddville Press, publishes The Adventurous Pen and is the author of Through Kaleidoscopes. 

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