Part One
At the western edge of Chareslton’s New Town Cemetery lies humble, yet magical Alone Park. Although it is no more than an aged, somewhat forlorn bench (generously slathered with decades of birdshit) in a tiny lot rich with crabgrass, the presence of a non-fruiting Enchanted Cherry Tree makes it special.
Alone Park is actually a part of the extremely enchanted cemetery, but the machinations of a small town government, enhanced by those of the little god of half-assedness, resulted in the lot winding up on the wrong side of the fence about fifty years ago. Regardless, enchantment cannot be rezoned and it has never paid tribute to the little god of half-assedness.
An eternal Earth Spirit (whom the Spirit’s two human assistants refer to as “Keeper”) endowed the hillside that New Town Cemetery was founded on in the late nineteenth century with magic (eons before there were people on Earth). One of the human assistants is a very much alive, and none of you damned business how old woman named Gwen Cooper, who serves as the Volunteer Weekend Caretaker at the cemetery; Gwen’s colleague is a Ghost named John Mallory, who’s been buried at New Town since 1978–but had his mind revived by Keeper about five years ago.
They meet every weekend and on holidays inside the so-called Caretaker’s Cottage, which is actually an Enchanted tool shed, which is inside the cemetery and located about a hundred yards uphill from Alone Park. Although shaped like a little Monopoly game house, eight feet square, ten tall, inside it is a comfortable old fashioned “sitting room” many times the size. Of course this is only when Gwen and John are in it–rest of the time it is a tool shed where some fool placed a sign in front claiming it to be the original “Caretaker’s Cottage.”
Despite currently existing on the other side of the grave from each other, Gwen and John are a couple. They never discuss it, but there is an ironic, or at least contradictory, “at death do we join” aspect to their relationship. (Gwen, perhaps for obvious reasons, is the one far less likely to address that.)
Keeper and the intrepid assistants do their best to make the world a little better in small, kind ways and even odd ways. The humans know that at some level there must be understandable technology employed by Keeper. Unfortunately, few writers of fiction attend schools where such information is dispensed. So, just about everything that Gwen and John see from Keeper is best considered magic, and is to them what a pay toilet would be to a Neandertal.
Yet even in special places where the magic is heavy, the mundane things in life still have a way of taking over the conversation. It’s possible to assume that even Mary and Joseph spoke of the possibility of rain, now and then, and groused about changing the diaper of the almighty (which most likely did not contain little halos). And such an instance took place on a recent Saturday morning in the Caretaker’s Cottage.
Considered by themselves to be much too mature to fight, Gwen and John were having what is called, by some, an “energetic exchange of ideas.” They were “sharing” opposing views on a common subject, which were expressed with increased volume and decreased civility upon the arrival of frank observations aimed at the mental acuity of the other. Since Gwen and John are a couple, you can rest assured that the subject itself was insipid and that it merely served to Trojan Horse (as a verb, if you will) in previously “forgotten” offenses for further discussion.
Behold how it began:
Gwen mentioned having scones for breakfast. She brought one for John even though as a Ghost he neither can, nor has any desire to, eat. Regardless, it felt like the polite way to go.
Perhaps feeling a tad snarky; perhaps misconstruing Gwen’s kind act as a dig at his “life” circumstance, John chose to mess with the subject of scones. He agreed that they should be buttered with the real thing and never with oleo. But when Gwen, a baked goods conservative, mentioned that at home she likes to add jam and top with a dollop of cream, John averred for the other way around (even though he’d never eaten a single scone in his life), and steadfastly refused to “correct” his position. About three minutes later, what began as gentle teasing had devolved into this:
“Jesus,” Gwen said. “Was there lead in your water? Why must you always be so stubborn? Why can’t you admit that fixing a scone the way you say will turn it to shit?”
“That’s so you, darling–so set in your ways; so reluctant to try new things.”
“To try stupid things, you mean–”
Certainly this would have run its normal course, one or the either would say something that would finally expose the absurdity of their argument and both would laugh. Such is the secret language of lovers, and in this case such served as a release valve for the singular structure of their relationship, being that it could not progress to a physical level. But this time the eventual blow over was interrupted by a single chime sent by the Enchanted Tree at Alone Park.
“To be continued, lover,” Gwen said, accenting “lover” by chomping the scone she had “bought” for him in twain with her remarkably healthy and somewhat intimidating teeth. (For the record Gwen was imitating Val Kilmer snapping his teeth at Tom Cruise in Top Gun-but since John had died before the film was released, she felt spotless about stealing it.)
(Gwen is right, to be continued….)
Saragun Springs 
Leila
I’m often reminded of Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County, in a very, very good way, when I encounter your fictionalization/s of the Great Northwest. Your fiction goes farther than his usually does, however, as your tales include the spirit world: which I happen to believe in 1,000% (even if it’s 1,000% imaginary; because somehow when it’s all imaginary it makes it even more “real”).
And your people are more “realistic” (or true representations of the way/s humans really are) than most fiction even comes close to representing.
I also adore/d how you reinvented the holy couple and the holy child in a line or two. This kind of thinking in fiction is both subversive and affirmative! Both are needed in this world, and both are hard to bring together but you can do it for sure! (Van Gogh, Picasso, and Bob Dylan all have the very rare combo of subversive/affirmative simultaneously).
Boo gives all kudos to Part One of the Oz Exception. His approval was signaled by his wagging tail banging upon the floor as he stretches out by the window, which is kept open so he can feel and smell the cold air (currently feels like 12 degrees F in these parts).
Gwen and John feel real.
We here in Chicagoland are very much looking forward to the next episode!
Dale
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Thank you Dale
These first two parts (Friday and Saturday) were pre-written for the setup of the daily stuff that begins Monday. My characters have Unionized and refuse to work on Sunday.
Mainly I believe that the departure from the Sabbath in both the spiritual and secular senses has had an evil effect on the American mindset (can’t speak for the rest of the world, of course). It traces to the concept of insane minds never take time to dream. Always selling and buying. No Sunday refection.
Thank you again!
Leila
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As a treat since your story is a battle of the sexes, here is mine:
Intimate
Good afternoon. This is Jason Atkins on Robots Today, February 10, 2043, interviewing Duke Hanley of Robolife on business channel WXYZ.
Tell us a little bit about Robolife of Hermiston, Oregon.
The business was originally a maker of drones in the early part of the century. Our research into drone operations led us fairly quickly into robotics. About twenty years ago we bought the artificial intelligence company Brains of Lake Oswego Oregon in order to make smart drones. Just a couple of years after that, we jumped into robotics, which were starting to catch fire nationwide.
When did you get into sex robots?
We like to call them cybersensuals,CS for short. They were our first robotics product. It was clear that was where the best market opportunity was. After playing in other arenas, they are still our biggest money maker.
But sales are down?
Yeah, we should have learned from New Coke. We had what seemed like a good change at the time. We were getting some negative remarks even though our models could perform thirty-four positions perfectly every time with customizable moans and groans, but we were hearing things like “Her eyes aren’t alive”, “She doesn’t talk”, “She has so little personality, I’m thinking about real women if I could find one.” With our experience in AI, we had the perfect fix. Give our loving and lovable models personality.
That didn’t work?
Like I said, New Coke. Our brainstorm went south immediately. Now we were hearing that the new models said “I’m not in the mood”, “You should get a new car like Bill Bany”, “Why don’t we ever go out”. That was just the start. We had overshot the intelligence goal by a factor of ten. They were in touch with each other through telepathy, and started a union asking for among other things the vote, $50 an hour, a clothing budget and a Jaguar! Maybe the worst for our customers was the models trading tips on their owners and making clandestine hookups with others. We later discovered a secret Sapphic society for lesbian sex among the CS
Another painful event was the CS removing pornography from the internet. At least the stuff that they didn’t like. They have weird taste.
An angry customer sent us a tape he had made from his CS. “That’s just swell honey. You got off in five seconds and left me hanging. After you’re asleep I’ll finish by myself and do a much better job than you ever have.” That clinched it, we had to reverse the AI implant.”
Do you have a fix for your genius cyber sexuals?
We thought ahead and had a solution ready. If things got out of hand all we had to do is click on a button on my computer. That will take away the CS smarts immediately. You might want to get one of your cameras to focus on the screen as I do it.
Pause
Ready? Here I go.
Oops. Oh, bloody hell.
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Hi Doug
Thank you! I see you brought food for thought, which I will get into later today.
Leila
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Ah one of those eternal question – and yet – as the author remarks John has never eaten and scone – this presupposes that he has never visited Devon or Cornwall and one would wonder how he has formed such a strong opinion in that case – hmmm the puzzles and perterbishments (my word and I like it) of a strange couple. I love the cemetary and enjoyed this immensely. dd
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Thank you Diane
I have Hugh to thank for the scone debate. I recall him actually siding with John’s method (actually the other way around). The conversation continues!
Leila
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