#Piano Moving Salem

[historicsal132]

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[mrschwartz]

Alex Turner opens up about The Car, Arctic Monkeys' 20th anniversary album

The frontman of the British band that performs at Primavera Sound, in São Paulo, invests in more abstract lyrics in new album

Published October 16 2022, by Rodrigo Salem

Alex Turner is not satisfied with the lighting in the room chosen as the setting for our interview. It's a small, cozy hipster hotel in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, one of those above a cafe with tables occupied by young people at the computer, and no lines at cash registers that don't accept cash.

The frontman of Arctic Monkeys, the biggest rock band to come out of the UK in the last 20 years, flips the switches until he finds the perfect balance of light. "Is this okay for you?" he asks, but doesn't seem to care too much about the answer.

Turner likes to have complete control over his environment. "Where do you want to sit? This will be the best place, right?" he asks, coffee in hand, already standing in front of a small beige table below the lamp that insisted on not emanating the adequate light.

Shy to the point of never completing a full sentence, as if his mouth didn't keep up with his fast brain, Turner is acutely aware of his obsession with control and attention to detail, something that has only grown bigger in the last few years at the helm of the band. But the singer, guitarist and songwriter lived something different in the creation of The Car, the group's seventh album, which will be released worldwide this week.

After composing the piano demos alone for much of the pandemic, he was reunited with the rest of the band over the summer of last year, in a secluded house that was part of a 12th-century monastery in Suffolk, on the east coast of England.

"We hadn't done that since the first album. I had extra film rolls and I took my 16mm camera to film everything and keep myself busy during the recording. At first, I just wanted to record the memory, but it seemed to help in the work environment, because I stepped out of the process a bit and gave everyone more space," he says.

"James [Ford, record producer] was delighted, because I wasn't looking over his shoulder all the time and being a twat."

The musician's hobby as a filmmaker was not the only novelty in the three weeks of work in the makeshift studio, complete with a piano borrowed from a resident there and the technological arsenal brought in from London. The period was essential for Arctic Monkeys to remember that they are still a rock group formed by friends.

"We had a lot of laughs and watched the Euro Cup together. It was important to have that band energy again," says Turner, revealing that Body Paint, The Car's latest single, only took its final form because of this camaraderie. "The distorted guitar at the end just came about because I wanted to do that solo with them. It sounds obvious, but being together changes the dynamics of how I play."

Ironically, the album's main theme seems to circle around characters that don't seem to fit the environment they're in. In Body Paint itself, which wouldn't be out of place in one of George Martin's orchestrated productions for The Beatles, Turner sings that he's "keeping on [his] costume and calling it a writing tool."

Jet Skis On The Moat, played on a sultry guitar and with a broken rhythm reminiscent of U2's The Playboy Mansion, brings a Hollywood psychedelic mood—"jet skis on the moat / they filmed everything in CinemaScope, but this is the last time you will ride them, though".

"I was imagining this perception of us living like rock stars in a fantasy castle on a mountain, riding jet skis, disconnected from everything," says Turner.

In I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am, he seems to describe a strange trip on a luxury yacht off the coast of France, a country where he usually goes with his girlfriend, French singer Louise Verneuil, since he moved back to England from Los Angeles. "I spend less time here, but I love this city. It's where I have my friends," he says.

Extremely protective of his privacy, Alex Turner does not confirm any theories that could refer to his life beyond music. However, he admits that feeling like a fish out of water is one of the themes of the record. "I've definitely written this time about someone who doesn't fit in," he says as he pulls out of his green jacket two folded sheets of paper filled with his lyrics and assorted notes.

I question the reason for keeping this material around and the singer lets his guard down. "I think that this way I can have these conversations more easily, and stay on the same level as other people. You've read the lyrics, listened to the record, and I thought I should do the same to meet you in the middle," he says, soon bringing back up his good-humored defenses. "And it also serves to intimidate people."

Not that he seems to want to intimidate anyone. Turner can barely look up, more concerned with focusing on some object and finding the right words for his answers. Keeping the lyrics in your pocket serves to rediscover the words of the songs.

One of the most brilliant songwriters of modern British rock and someone who has managed to portray the yearnings and feelings of an entire millennial generation, he says his lyrics come out of the space between the conscious and the unconscious.

In The Car, they seem even more abstract. "I love leaving space for lyrics not to be fully understood and to become more interesting as the years go by. I like to explore things that are difficult to talk about."

Does that mean that Alex Turner, who, two decades ago, rehearsed in a garage with Jamie Cook on guitar, Andy Nicholson on bass, later replaced by Nick O'Malley, and Matt Helders on drums, in Sheffield, is finally noticing the inevitable passage of time?

"Funny, it's hard to accept that it's been 20 years," he says. "But we're alive and active. That happens a lot when I'm singing the old songs now. I remember something, not necessarily the lyrics, but the environment, a person and the sensations of the past."

A rich past, we must add. Arctic Monkeys have gone through several phases in these two decades. It began with the confessional hip-hop-enamored rock of the first two albums, a formula that propelled the group into the stratosphere of fame. It gained weight with the stoner rock of Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age on 2009's Humbug and the stadium hard rock of 2013's AM. And it culminated in the journey away from Earth in 2018's jazzy Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.

The Car continues the sonic exploration of their previous work, but brings guitars back to the songs and a Turner interested in using his voice as an instrument. "I don't know if Alex from 20 years ago would like this sound," he wonders. "Secretly, I wanted something along those lines then, but it wasn't within my reach at the time. On second thought, I think he would like it. But if he wouldn't like it, then fuck it," he jokes.

He admits that he changed his way of looking at music and even composing. On previous albums, he wrote the lyrics and then thought of the melody. The music now comes first.

"I made an effort to put the lyrics in sync with a melody that gives me permission to use certain words," says the musician. "I didn't focus on that in the past, I think it started on AM, when I started to change the lyrics as I was influenced by the sound in the studio."

Back on stage since a few weeks ago, Turner believes the pandemic has changed the relationship between band and audience. "The first time we performed was powerful," he says. "There's a new energy that encourages me. I'm trying not to behave the same way on stage. I think some of that comes from the younger crowd."

Brazil is going to feel this in a few days. Arctic Monkeys closes the first day of Primavera Sound, in São Paulo, on November 5th, already oiling the show with a new repertoire. "When we arrive in Brazil, I want to test two new songs and leave some old ones behind," says the singer, who already says that the next album may come out faster than expected after the long gestation of The Car.

Unable to play shows, the group spent a year polishing up the album in post-production. "We had more time to work on the record and I like to think that this had a positive influence on the final result, as we had more space to hone, think and fight for certain ideas", says Turner. "I love the idea of doing something different, like writing, recording and releasing in a week. Maybe it's a fun idea for the next project."

[quodekash]

Hi there 👋,

My name is Mohammad Salem Abu Swierh, a father of three young children living in Gaza. We are facing unimaginable hardships due to the ongoing war, and our home is no longer safe. I’ve started a fundraising to raise $40,000 to move my family to a safer place where my children can have a chance at a better future. 💔🍉

If you could spare a moment to read our story and consider donating or even sharing, it would mean the world to us. Every bit of support brings us closer to safety and hope. 🙏

Thank you for your kindness and compassion. ❤

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

pls help if you can! click on the link and reblog to get engagement up and save Mohammed and his family! 🍉🇵🇸

(I checked and this account has been verified, this isn’t a bot made by someone trying to benefit off of a genocide)

I’ve read their story and they’re a beautiful family, deserving (like all families) of a safe place to live without fear of constant bombings. one of their kids plays the piano! I’ll do anything to let him continue his musical education, please help where you can - even just by reading their story and sharing the link ❤️🍉

[etherealising]

Hi Vee!!! I hope you’re doing well and congratulations on 1K woot woot <3! I was wondering what some of your favorite songs are right now and what are some of the songs that remind you of aiekoy currently? For me it’s definitely Pigment by HER, unthinkable by Alicia Keys, and Do4Love by Snoh Allegra both sonically and lyrically are what I usually listen to when reading aiekoy!

bestie bestie bestie…i hope you’re sat and ready for this presentation you’re about to receive. also the pfp is so cute i love that for you!! 🥰

firstly i am doing well thank you for inquiring, i hope the same could be said for you my love! also 1k wowie! most are bots and pages that don’t interact but we’ll take our wins where we can get them! please babe prepare yourself for this behemoth of a post! 💕

some of my fav songs atm are…

nothing matters - the last dinner party

this song makes me feel like i’m a witch in salem and my neighbor wants me hanged because he thinks i seduced his wife with witchcraft but we’re actually just two ladies in love

history of man - maisie peters

i’m a whore for greek mythology references and girly pop got me

rapstar - polo g

word for word bar for bar i could sing this song drunk

megan’s piano - meg thee stallion

dare say this is my hype song (could also sing this song faded out of my mind)

slow burn - infinity song

gives me 90s vibes and i love anything they put out (it inspired aiekoy chapter 12 heavily)

walk like this - flo

listen flo has been doing it right since cardboard box i don’t play about these girlies!!!!

the way things go - beabadoobee

i actually have a carmy one-shot based on lyrics from this song 🥲

songs that remind me of aiekoy:

only you - yazoo

i mean this one feels kind of obvious to me, it literally inspired this whole fic and without it aiekoy would have never seen the light of day.

cybah - syd/lucky daye

listen okay, this song just speaks to my sole and i promise you everytime i hear these lyrics i can see baby and carmy in my minds eye just going through so many different scenes its absolutely crazy. this song is just so intimate to me and it reminds me of the soft intimacy barby shares.

loved by you - kirby

this song is so carmy coded it inspired an upcoming interlude and anytime i hear it all i can think about is barby (mostly carmy) and all the scenes i have planned to write about in interlude 3. this song gives me very much carmy’s internal dialogue throughout this series and that’s basically what the interlude is as well. this song also really inspired me to keep writing this series when i was ready to just give up on it and idk it just holds a special place in my heart (also shoutout to s1e4 of the bear for introducing me to this song 😭)

ros - mac miller

i feel like this is so out of left field but it just fits! also very carmy coded imo just hearing this song immediately makes me think of barby and lyrically i just feel like it fits them almost perfectly (also heavily gives carmy’s internal monologue).

honorable mentions:

achy bones - ash the ghost

dark red - steve lacy

i like the way you love me - brenton wood

back in town - florence + the machine

bestie brattyb’s immaculate music taste:

pigment

literally gagged me, i was not ready for that! i love the mixture of singing and spoken word it was so beautiful and i feel like it balances the love and toxicity that can sometimes be present in relationships and it screams barby. you really put me on with this one bestie it was such a good choice!!!

unthinkable

a classic really miss keys rarely misses. listening to this song i could literally see scenes between carmy and baby playing out in my head which is always inspires me to write. like oh my goodness how have i not considered this song before this is literally barby’s relationship in a nutshell!

do4love

bestie you really have superior music taste. this gives me like the ‘missing’ years between carmy and baby. especially baby trying to move on and create a life outside of her love for carmy and her little Chicago gang.

i genuinely love you so much for all the constant support you have given me and this funny little series i decided to write, also thank you so much for participating in my 1k celebration your ask forced me to go through the aiekoy playlist and remember why i love writing this series so must and it has really inspired me to keep writing for aiekoy!!

please enjoy the long awaited playlist i’ve been meaning to share (apologies in advance there’s some random songs that def don’t belong and i’m too lazy to delete) 🫶🏽🤍

[princeblack]

it’s not long before the wedding now and tensions are high, the planning of the ceremony taking up everyone’s time. it’s winter break so it’s only a week away now, salem staying with regulus, both because the wedding is so soon and because he’s never letting her go back to her mother, knowing that she’d most likely be hurt if she did.

it’s their first dinner back and it’s a big event, walburga inviting some of the neighboring wizarding families and organizing a small feast. during the day everyone gathers in the garden, dressed in high end clothing and drinking enchanted alcohol, most everyone in good spirits. orion and one of his friends take turns playing music on the piano, giving background music to the party. there’s wizard chess and even owl racing, some of the adults bringing their children as well. they use the bigger dining table, the one in the garden, to magically set out the feast when it’s time for dinner.

regulus gets drunk faster than he should, playing two truths and a lie with salem to get to know each other more (and taking a shot every time one of them gets something wrong). he guides her through the garden to show her all of his favorite pieces of art, his fingers intertwined with hers as he explains each sculpture. this is her second night staying here and he didn’t get to spend enough time showing her everything last time, gettng cut off by their parents before he was done.

it’s hard to keep his eyes off of his bride-to-be, looking so beautiful in the black, lacey outfit she chose alongside his own. his coat and pants are black silk, matching the dark color of his lace material top, slightly unbuttoned to show off his chest and the silver necklaces layered upon it. his dark curls look even darker against the outfit, the silver snake choker glinting on his neck. their clothing seems to draw eyes, especially from the handful of guests that are their age, regulus and salem knowing them from hogwarts. astoria and daphne had even said hi earlier, speaking to them for a moment before regulus had guided salem off to look at more art.

by the time they make it to the dining table, he’s smiling faintly, glad that she seems to enjoy it here even if there’s still a lot that’s unfamiliar. he pulls her chair out for her, allowing her to sit before he takes his own seat next to her. at first things go smoothly, everyone filing over until most of the party is participating in dinner (roast beef, vegetables, dinner rolls and various other appetizers). orion introduces salem to one of the families they’re closer to and they make small talk, mrs. greengrass even asking salem about her own career plans for the future. regulus can feel orion listening raptly to salem’s response, knowing this is one of the things his father is a stickler about. he wants regulus to work in the ministry with him and he lets his father believe he will for now, still not giving it a lot of thought yet.

by the end of the party, regulus is drunk enough that he’s feeling it as people start to leave, kind of wanting to sneak off with salem but getting caught by his mother and asked to join them inside for dessert. he agrees somewhat reluctantly, tugging his fiance along until they’re in the dining room inside, the table already set with chocolate gateau and whipped cream.

at first dessert goes well too, orion telling them about some vacation the malfoys are on and how they sent souvenirs, but eventually he finds out why his mother really set up a family only dessert. “i wanted to talk about your plans together, as a couple,” walburga starts, her dark brown eyes finding salem briefly before moving to her son. “how you’re planning on behaving, and representing us… we decided that salem is to move in here, so certain family ideals need to be upheld. right, regulus, dear?”

regulus’s good mood evaporates as soon as he hears the tone she’s speaking in, picking up on the way she looked over at salem for a little too long. “like what, making sure the hedges are trimmed a certain way? extending a pinky finger when we take a drink?” he shouldn’t be joking about it but it’s hard to answer her seriously when he’s kind of wasted, a smile on his lips. 

“regulus,” orion warns, but he can hear a hint of amusement in his father’s voice. he probably knows what walburga is about to say, and it doesn’t help that he’s also been drinking so he isn’t taking it very seriously at the moment either.

his response clearly frustrates her, dark eyes narrowing a bit. “very funny. no, i’m talking about how it’s already going to look to people that she’s staying here before the marriage ceremony… this isn’t how normal pureblood families do things. we’re bending our rules to suit your demands, so i think it’s only fair to ask things in return…”

“we’re bending the rules because salem isn’t returning to stacy’s home,” regulus interjects sharply. “that’s non-negotiable. i won’t have my fiance be in harm’s way.” his parents know vaguely about why they’re cutting stacy off and orion fully supports it, agreeing that a husband shouldn’t allow something like that (and that it would make their family look bad anyway, if it got out). his mother had been more quiet, seeming as if she finds the situation disasteful but not enough to argue against it, ultimately agreeing with her husband.

walburga’s mouth is set in a hard line before she continues, looking irritated at the tone he’s taking. “be that as it may, we should go over family expectations. starting with the first one, i expect a certain level of respect from both of you when under my roof together. you’ll act in a way that would reflect well upon us if anyone else in the village were to see.” her voice is stiff, as if she’s holding back something that’s making her more upset.

regulus isn’t in the state to analyze what she means, her words rolling off of him because of his inebriation. “luckily for you, mother, i left my ‘i love muggles’ t-shirt back at hogwarts, so…” “that’s more than enough, regulus,” his father interjects, voice strict and a little cold as he glances over at his wife in concern. he knows how things go when walburga and regulus fight, and how inconsolable she gets. “perhaps we should have this conversation a bit later, when the drinking has worn off, walburga.”

“no,” she says coldly, and there’s full anger in her eyes now as she looks between them. “you won’t speak to me that way.” she seems a little taken aback, probably because this doesn’t ever happen, regulus tending to keep an agreeable tone with her. something about the intoxication mixed with his protectiveness of salem is making him act out, feeling annoyed and very much like whatever his mother is displeased about doesn’t make any logical sense. 

regulus glances over at salem to make sure she’s okay, the room a little twisty because he can’t seem to get sober even as he reaches over to chug some water from his goblet. “mother…” he can feel her about to launch into another demand, already hating the slight tremble in her voice. / @ghstdoll

[holly-opal]

Logs to send for Jessica

My Beautiful Music.

[Log Begins]

Do you remember when we were kids? When we rode our bikes to the around the neighborhood, trying to see who was the fastest and racing to the kitchen every time the sun was setting. I remember you wanted to ride outside the town, you wanted to see something new apart from old lady Dahlia watering her marigolds or Mrs. Trims walking her demonic dogs that I'm 89% sure she bought straight out of hell. I didn't want to go. I was too scared to leave the safety of my neighborhood. Amazing how when time passes, your opinions on something changes? Back then, I wanted to stay with mother forever. Now, I left without saying goodbye to her and moved here in Rosefield..... Ugh. Enough of me ranting. We went to the old mansion, the one where the Salem's lived in before they died in that car crash. I'm sure you remember.

When I first saw it, I was amazed. I think it was because I've never seen a big house before. You put away your bike and ran inside without warning, I fell over trying to get off my bike and got a small bruise on my arm. The mansion was dark, and there was mold and dust everywhere. It smelled so awful. It smelled like a dead animal in there. I ran around the place looking for you, I was screaming your name, and I was scared because you weren't responding. I almost tripped multiple times by the furniture on the floor, and I think my floral shirt ripped on one of them. I finally found you in the music room. At first, I thought you were the one playing the piano, and I really liked it. But I saw that you were nowhere near the piano. You were staring at it, wide eyed and mouth agape. I was confused, "Jessica?" I said, "What's going on?" You pointed at the piano, your hand was shaking. I looked at the person playing the piano. She had long black hair, and her skin was pale, almost as pale as mother was, and she was wearing a beautiful pink frilly dress. I thought she was pretty, until I saw the worms. They were ripping into her skin just to get a taste of her rotting flesh, skinny ones were desperately trying to get inside while fat ones were slowly exiting out of her, satisfied with their meal.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't move. I was frozen in place. You were frozen too. The girl stopped playing, and just... Sat there. She turned her head around to look at us. I can still hear the bones breaking and her skin tearing just so she could make eye contact with us without moving her body. Her neck turned 180 degrees, and I saw her hideous face. Mold, maggots, holes, and some strange kind of slime was covering her rotten face. Her right eye was gone, only insects and worms filled the void, and I couldn't tell if her left eye was bloodshot or moldy. It looked like she had pinkeye. And her mouth was stretched so wide, I was hoping it was fall off already, but it didn't. It never did. It just stayed in a permanent state of a wide smile, showing her yellow teeth and her missing tongue. She started laughing. It started out as a small giggle, then it turned into a chuckle, and suddenly loud laughter that you only hear from insane people. She got up, her back stretching up and up and up, her skeletal system popping and cracking to adjust to the new size. She was so tall. I think she was either 7ft or 8ft tall? I don't know. Besides running out of that mansion covered in cuts and bruises, scrambling to get our bikes and run the hell out of there, everything else was a blur. I heard her behind us, loud footsteps and her heavy breathing, all as we tried our best to get out alive. I looked back that day, when we were getting on our bikes, she was standing there. On the foot of the door, with her giant smile, and waving goodbye to us. Her long fingers looked sickening to me.

You and I went back home, and we went to the bathroom. We patched each other up and we went to our rooms, watched cartoons on the TV Grandma got for us, and only us. You told Mother that you weren't feeling well, and I said that same, told her that I got it from you. She let us stay home from school, not out of empathy though, I am 100 percent sure she was just glad that she didn't have to waste time driving us to school when she could be home, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey until she cried herself to sleep in the couch. We wouldn't leave each other's sides. We were attached to the hip. Now not so much. I moved away, and you.... Hmmm....

....I know you don't want me to go back to to that mansion. If you were here with me, you'd either be strangling me or begging me not to go. But I have to, Jessica. I have to. I need to know more about that place, I need to get answers, I need to see if I can... I can... Christ... I have to go now, I'll update you on what I find. It was nice talking to you, Jessica.

Goodbye.

[Log Ends]

.

.

.

Come to me, Lesley. Come hear my music.

[cozyfoxy]

Time and Time Again Chapter 1

Summary: Have you ever met someone for the first time, and felt at ease immediately? When you looked into their eyes, you saw a movie of your lives together, and when you shook hands, warmth surrounded you. A strange form of recognition, though you had never met them before.

Sometimes, when you meet someone new, it’s less of a “nice to meet you.” and more of a “glad to see you again!” Soulmates, some people call them. Two halves of one soul, torn apart only to meet again. Kindred spirits, others call it—two separate souls who have known each other for many lifetimes. No matter what you might call it, that recognition is there.

When Dan Howell saw his first AmazingPhil video, he felt a longing that was like nothing he had dealt with before. He needed to know this human as well as he knew himself. Though he hadn’t met the other man yet, he knew that they were destined to be friends, lovers or 4000-year-old tortoises together. How many lifetimes had they already shared?

Read on AO3

1693, Salem Massachusetts 

Daniel and Philip had been best friends since birth. Their mothers grew up like sisters, so when both women fell pregnant at the same time, they knew that their children would be as close as they were. Philip was born first, just five hours before Daniel. The boys were nearly inseparable, more like brothers than friends. They did their schooling together, sat together at church, and got into trouble together. It was odd to see one without the other. 

Now. as young men, they were learning their places in the world. Philip was diving deeper into his father’s woodworking business and helping his mother with her sewing. Daniel was being taken to every town meeting by his father who was a minister and now, a witch hunter. When the first witch was found in their town, a few men stepped up to find the others, Daniel’s father included.

During the trials, the accused would nearly always beg for their lives, beg for forgiveness, and admit to being a witch. Though, Daniel was never quick to believe that they truly were a witch. Many of the accused kept to themselves, they were outsiders and that frightened the town immensely. So far, Daniel had seen six of the accused burned at the stake, and each one had burned as any human would. If they were truly a practicer of dark magic, could they not save themselves? 

Daniel was currently sitting on a bench inside their church, watching the line of accusers slowly diminish as each person offered up a name. It was part of Daniel’s responsibility to write the names given and who gave each name. It truly was as boring as it sounded, but he did it nonetheless. Once it got to the end of the line, four people huddled together, Daniel braced for their words. It was never a good sign to have so many accusers together. Whatever name they gave, would surely be punished. 

“We were down near the entrance of the wood to collect lumber for fires as the weather is becoming cold once more. We saw Philip Lester floating in the air and the grass, it was burning in a circle around him.” John Kyle told Daniel’s father who tensed visibly at the words. 

George Kyle, John’s younger brother stepped forward then, “He was quiet and still aside from moving his hands in ungodly ways. Moving his fingers as if he were playing a piano and then he was mumbling words we could not understand. The devil’s language, it had to be! We was stuck in place, he had us under a spell he did!”

“And then we heard a growl, nothing like no bear or human. Nothing I heard before.” Lincoln Fisher added, “I thought we was going to die. We was finally able to move and one of us stepped on a twig and it snapped. Lester looked our way and laughed, Minister Howell, his eyes weren’t blue no more they was red as blood. The witch stayed in the air and told us to run away, so we did.” 

Thomas Corwin, the oldest of the group of men stepped forward, “he did no harm to us as much as we can tell. But he is a witch for sure and for certain. We took the time to get our lumber and Lester ignored us and continued his dark magic. Heard the growl again we did and then he was gone completely. The burnt grass still is there, we checked.” 

Daniel sat on the bench, writing the names with a shaky fist. No, they had to be lying. Not Philip, not his Philip. No, he couldn’t be a witch or anything of the sort. Philip Lester was kind, giving, and overall goodhearted. He would never hurt even a mouse that got into his home. Daniel had seen him carrying even spiders outside rather than crushing them. No, not his Philip. 

Minister Howell glanced at his son, worry etching into his features. If what was said was true, Philip would have to be burned. Too much evidence was against him already. If the grass was burned like the men had said, he would not be able to do anything to save Philip. He pulled his coat on and followed the men out of the church, only pausing for a moment to look at Daniel. 

“Daniel, son, I am going to see if the grass is burned. If it is, Philip will be put on trial and burned at the stake. I know that you plan to warn him and send him away. Please do not get yourself hurt.” Minister Howell mumbled before walking out the doorway completely. 

Daniel stood up quickly, throwing the papers of names down onto the bench before running as fast as he could to the Lester’s home. He would convince Philip to run. Philip was a smart man, he must know what kind of trouble he would be in if he stayed. He would die. He knew Philip had the ability to leave, so he must. Daniel would make sure of it. 

He pushed the door open quickly, running smack into Philip as he entered the house, Philip didn’t seem surprised to see his friend, not even confused. Almost like he was expecting a visit. Philip had a pair of trousers in his hands, having been helping his mother mend them. 

“Hello there, why are you running? You don’t run.” Philip joked, setting the trousers down and letting Daniel into the small home. 

Daniel tried to catch his breath, “Philip. You must leave. You have been accused of witchery. You must leave.”

Philip smiled at Daniel’s words, “Oh. Though, what if I be a witch? They could not kill me. I will not burn.” he said simply. 

“Philip, please. You know these trials are unfair. There is a lot against you, you will be killed. I do not want you to die. Please, leave this town so that you may live.” Daniel begged, tears filling his eyes in his desperation.

His friend smiled again, “Daniel. You need not worry. I will not be killed. It will be fine. Trust me.”

Daniel paced the small house anxiously, trying and failing to understand his friend’s thought process, “Why won’t you leave this place, Philip? Even if you were a witch, why would you not just leave and save yourself the trouble?” He demanded, standing directly in front of his friend. 

Philip huffed and looked directly into Daniel’s eyes. His blue eyes flickered to a strange, almost yellow color for just a split second, so quick that Daniel couldn’t be sure that he really saw it. Philip squeezed his best friend’s shoulders gently. 

“Daniel, if I were to run. The townsfolk would surely know that you came to warn me, yes? No one else would. You would be punished for my disappearance. You of all people should understand my motive, I do not wish for you to be hurt, especially on my account.” Philip explained, a soft chuckle escaping from his throat. 

Daniel blinked twice before pulling his hat off of his head and sighing, understanding that Philip was right. If he was accused of helping a witch, he would surely be punished. Imprisoned if he was lucky, but most likely he would be killed. Though his father would surely try to put a stop to it, even someone as admired as Minister Howell would be ignored when it came to witchery. 

“So, what now then?” Daniel asked quietly, looking down at his friend solemnly, “They will be here soon. Any moment now they will be here and take you away. I can get you the nicer imprisonment room, the one with a haybed. But I can not do much else.”

Philip smiled, pulling his coat on carefully before sliding his gloves on as well. His gloves had been made lovingly by his mother just a few weeks prior, as it was getting cold outside again. “Just allow me to say goodbye to my parents. The mob will be here soon.”

Daniel nodded slowly and watched as his friend walked into the back room of the house where they would often sleep at night. It had a nice fireplace with a pot of soup cooking slowly. It smelled delectable and made Daniel’s stomach rumble. Without thinking too hard about it, Daniel followed his friend into the room.

“Mother, father. I have been found out. They will be here quite soon. Please, keep yourselves safe. I will not die, but I will not be able to come back, at least not anytime soon. I love you both dearly. Daniel, you will treat them like family as always, yes?” Philip asked without turning around, startling Daniel. 

The brunette nodded quickly at Philip’s words, watching silently as Mrs and Mr Lester hugged their son goodbye. Mrs. Lester was crying quietly while Mr. Lester mumbled words of good tidings. Daniel could not understand their calmness. Was his friend truly a witch?

Just moments after the goodbyes, the mob knocked angrily at the door. Philip chuckled and walked to the front of the house, opening the door carefully. 

“Philip Michael Lester, you have hereby been accused as a wretched witch, we must take you to trial at once.” Minister Howell explained with sadness in his brown eyes.

Philip nodded and held out his wrists so that they could tie him with the ropes, dragging him roughly out of the place that he would no longer be able to call home. Daniel followed hopelessly behind the crowd, kicking a stray pinecone with his foot. His stomach felt heavy and his heart was thumping angrily inside his chest. There was simply nothing that he could do to save his friend.

The next morning, Daniel was sent to Philip’s holding room to collect him for the trial. Though he was timid and worried, shaking nervously about the fate of his friend; Philip seemed completely at ease. The bread that they had offered him for dinner the night before sat untouched on the floor, but Philip didn’t seem hungry. 

“Are you ready Philip?” Daniel asked softly, looking at his friend with sad eyes. He was silently begging him to flee and let Daniel deal with the consequences. Though he knew Philip better than that. 

Philip stood with a smile and a pep in his step, “Yes, Let’s get this over with, yes? The sooner this is over, the sooner everyone can move on.”

Daniel sighed, “Do you really not value your life? You mean so much to so many people Philip, your parents, my family… you mean more than life itself to me. And yet, you have not a care in the world about your own demise.” 

“I promise you I will not die, my friend. You must trust me, I know that is hard for you but I am not lying. I am a witch Daniel, I have been since before I was born. You will see.” Philip explained softly, “And just so you know, you mean just as much to me.” He whispered before walking out of the holding cell. 

Awhile later, Philip was standing in front of the town, calmly looking at the accusers in front of him. Minister Howell was standing directly in front of the man that was just as much his son as Daniel was. He felt nauseous, but he hid it well. He had to stay focused. 

“Philip, you have been accused on four counts of witchery! How do you plea?” Minister Howell asked sharply.

Philip smiled softly, “I am guilty. Let’s get on with it. I was in the wood practicing a spell that would turn me from man to beast, and I was successful by the way. Though I was interrupted quite rudely, I was successful.”

Minister Howell stuttered a bit. He had expected Philip to plead for his life, to apologize and say it was all a mistake. “So, you were performing dark magic in the wood? Why did you not harm the men who walked upon you?”

“Why would I harm them? They have a right to the wood just as well as I do. I thought of freezing them in place and running, but it felt cowardly so I released them. Now please, do get on with it or I might choose to harm them.” Philip explained, picking at his fingernails.

Daniel felt weak in his knees. Philip was actually going through with it. He was actually claiming to be a witch, but he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t apologize. Philip was threatening the townsfolk. 

Minister Howell gaped at the man in front of him for a moment before fixing his composure, “I hereby label thee a witch! Men prepare the stakes! He shall be burned today.” 

The crowd began to speak and bustle around, many folks heading outside to observe the setup. Philip wordlessly pulled his nice jacket off. It was lined with fur on the inside, and the outside was a flattering deep brown leather. Daniel bit back the pain that he felt in his heart as he approached his friend.

“Daniel, I would like for you to keep my jacket. We are the same size, so it shall fit you well. Make good use of it my friend.” Philip smiled, handing the jacket to Daniel gently.

Daniel stuttered, trying to figure out what to say, “I will miss you, Philip. Life will never be the same without you. Hopefully, we will meet in heaven one day.” 

Philip chuckled, “I will miss you too my dear friend, though we will not meet in heaven. We will meet again someday.”

The brunette sighed sadly, “this is goodbye.” he whispered. He longed to hug his friend tightly as they did when they were young, but he knew that it would look strange to the onlookers.

As if Philip read his mind, he pulled Daniel into a tight hug with a hum. Daniel immediately melted into the soft embrace, feeling at ease for the first time in a long time. All too soon, the men pulled away from each other and some of the men in the town collected Philip, dragging him to be tied to the stakes.

“Yet another witch has been found in our town! Now, our homes may be safe, our children may be safe, and our wives may be safe! May our crops be blessed and our town be blessed by the almighty God! May our almighty God keep us safe and blessed, away from the Devil’s wrongdoings!” Minister Howell yelled, standing in front of Philip who was now tied by rope to the stakes. 

Behind him, Philip laughed, “Might I say, the town was safer with me in it Minister Howell. Now, there are only truly devilish witches. No one can save you now!”

Daniel who was at the front of the crowd shivered at his friend's words. Could that be true? Had Philip been protecting the town? He watched helplessly as two men from the town threw lit wads of cloth onto the stakes, onto Philip. 

“Burn witch, burn!” Someone yelled out, clapping their hands as Philip was engulfed in flames.

Daniel bit back tears, watching the fire surround his dearest friend. However, the fire didn’t seem to be bothering Philip at all. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that the fire wasn’t touching the man. Daniel could smell the familiar scent of burning hair and flesh, but Philip wasn’t screaming of flailing. He just stood there, looking bored. 

“What in the hell is happening?” A man asked, looking at Minister Howell. 

The crowd began to speak loudly all at once, confused and angry yells occasionally penetrating the air. Daniel made eye contact with Philip nervously, focusing on his bright blue eyes. They seemed to be glowing, almost completely silver.

Philip winked at Daniel, “Goodbye everyone! Do not miss me, as I will not miss many of you. Those who I love, do not forget me!” He yelled before completely disappearing, the fire completely going out. 

“What?!” Someone yelled, the entire crowd erupting into pure chaos. No one knew what to do, how to feel, or what to believe. They had just seen real witchcraft. They had finally tried to burn a real witch. 

Daniel stood off to the side, tears burning in his brown eyes, “Goodbye Philip.” he whispered. 

~~~

Three years later, Daniel was standing next to his bedridden wife with worry etched into his brow. She had given birth to their third child, a son that they named Michael after Daniel’s best friend. It was a difficult birth and had taken a severe toll on Martha. She had fallen ill quickly, seemingly overnight; and the town doctors were no help.

Daniel kneeled at her bedside, gently stroking her deep blonde hair that was laden with sweat. He helped her drink a cup of water, praying to God that she would be able to keep it down this time. She was suddenly riddled with a cough that shook her body so harshly, so painfully, that she burst into tears. 

“Daniel… Daniel my love, I am dying. I can not hold on any longer.” Martha whispered, looking up at her husband with dull blue eyes. She looked so weak.

Daniel shook his head quickly, “No dear, no, hold on. Please? God can heal you if our doctors can not. Stay, for me. For our babies. Please?” He sobbed, holding her pale hands gently in his own.

Since the last witch trial in the town, since Philip was able to escape the burning stakes unharmed and without explanation. The town of Salem had given up their witch trials, having finally realized that almost everyone that they had killed or punished was an innocent human. Not long after Philip had disappeared from the flames, Daniel and Martha became close.

Martha had been the only one in the town to bother to console Daniel after he lost his friend. It was at that moment that Daniel realized how kind and how beautiful the young woman before him was. They married just after Christmas in 1693. They had two girls now, Isabella and Mercy. Dan had wanted a boy from the beginning, but he loved his daughters with all his heart. However, when Martha gave birth to a healthy baby boy just a week prior, he had felt so much love and pride.

Now, he felt guilty for wanting the very child who Martha birthed, as the birth made her so ill. He blamed himself, but Martha told him he was being unfair to himself. He wanted to believe her, but he just couldn’t.

As soon as Martha’s mother came to keep an eye on her daughter and grandchildren, Daniel excused himself to go and grab some lumber for the fireplace. He pulled on the very jacket that his dear friend had gifted him years ago and escaped into the wood with his axe.

Tears filled his brown eyes before he even made it completely into the wood, and though he wanted to be embarrassed; he couldn’t find the energy to care. The love of his life was dying, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Every doctor had given the same prognosis; death. They all told him to keep her as comfortable as he could and find a way to take care of their children. Daniel knew that both of their families would step up to help, but he didn’t want it to come to that. 

A sudden loud shuffling behind him startled him out of his worries, making him grab his axe as a way to defend himself. Whatever was moving around had to be very large, as it moved through the brush with ease. Daniel glared in the direction of the sound.

“Whoever or whatever you are. Trust me, you do not wish to mess with me today. I am in no mood to play.” Daniel growled, slamming his axe into some wood to prove his point. 

To his surprise, he heard a familiar laugh, “that’s not the way I would expect to be greeted by my dearest friend after so many years.” 

Daniel gasped, “Phi-Philip? No… It can’t be.”

Philip walked from behind the brush and opened his arms out for his friend. Daniel ran into his arms quickly, melting once more into the embrace. It was like Philip was able to hold him together when he was truly breaking apart. 

“I came as soon as I heard that your wife is ill. I wanted to be here sooner, but I needed to make my potion first.” Philip whispered, pulling a small vial of purple liquid from his pants pocket.

Daniel sniffled and looked at his friend. It was clearly Philip, though his hair was shaggier and he had a bit of scruff on his chin. His nails were longer than they used to be and he was shirtless despite the cold weather. Daniel slowly took the vial of liquid and looked into his friend’s eyes. They were their normal blue color, the color that reminded Daniel of clear skies. 

“You… you’re able to heal her? But the doctors said there’s nothing we can do…” Daniel mumbled, still clinging to Philip. He should have already moved away, but he needed comfort. 

Philip smiled softly, “Yes. I can heal her in ways that they can not. I hear you named your son after me, I am honored, Daniel. I want all five of you to live healthy and fulfilling lives. This potion will save her life. I have a potion for you as well, to bring you luck. I want you to never question where you might get your next meal from or whether you can afford things for your family. This potion can do that.” He explained, pulling another vial from his pocket. 

Daniel took the second vial gently, looking at the orange liquid curiously, “you want to save my family? Even after I let them burn you. I should’ve done more to save you.” He whispered, finally pulling away from the hug. 

“I didn’t need you to save me, but you tried anyway. Thank you for that Daniel. I have to leave soon, I probably shouldn’t be here. Please, never forget me. Have Martha drink the purple potion and you drink the orange one.” Philip explained again, looking at Daniel with soft eyes. 

Daniel nodded slowly, “Is this the final goodbye?” He asked timidly

“For this lifetime, I am afraid so. But I promise to see you in many other lives. One more hug?” Philip asked, opening his arms.

Without a second thought, Daniel buried himself in Philip’s embrace. He felt at ease once more, more than he did before. Philip came to help Martha, to help Daniel and his family. He didn’t deserve someone like Philip. The world didn’t deserve someone like Philip. 

All too soon, the hug ended and Philip smiled before running further into the forest, a sudden howl breaking the quietness of the trees. Had Philip turned into a beast? Daniel shook his head quickly, turning back to his axe to start chopping the wood. Only, the wood was sat in stacks, already chopped nicely for the fireplace. Daniel chuckled to himself and picked up the logs carefully. 

Just days later, after Daniel had given the potion to Martha and taken his own potion, things had gone very much back to normal. Martha was as healthy as ever, running about with their daughters, nursing their son, and cooking dinner. Daniel was catching animals for food more easily than ever and he would even give some to his family and Martha’s. He was also always sure to give food to the Lesters so that they never had to go without. His sudden luck and her sudden good health were now the talk of the town. 

“He must be a witch!” An older woman accused when he walked by with his family. 

“Oh leave the boy alone. He must be blessed by God.” Her husband argued. 

Others in the town who remembered Philip Lester well were sure that Philip must’ve saved Daniel and his family. 

“I suppose Philip Lester chose to come back to save his best friend.” One young man said with a shrug as a group of friends talked about it. 

“Would Philip really put himself out there, out in danger just to help his friend? Is Howell really worth all that?” A girl asked with a snicker. 

The same young man shrugged, “when you love someone, you do crazy, dangerous things.”

Daniel heard all of the whispers and the confusion of how he was as blessed as he was. He took every comment in stride. He knew that Philip would do anything for him, even now. He would do the same for Philip too, but there wasn’t much he could do for his dear friend now. Maybe in the next lifetime.

[rhapsodyred-writes]

The sounds drifting from Sykes' music room weren't out of the ordinary. It was the usual piano playing - some old piece that Roxy wouldn't know the name of, but that didn't mean she didn't recognize it. It was one of Sykes's favourite pieces, she knew at least that much.

She opened the door slowly with Jamie on her tail, and they both made as little noise as possible entering the music room.

"You know," Sykes said from behind his piano, his teal gaze unnervingly fixed on the intruders into his music room as his fingers continued to dance effortlessly over the keys. "I don't need to hear you to know you're here."

"Man you're that good huh? You can just play without looking at your hands?" Jamie piped up, peeking around Roxy.

"Of course I can," Sykes responded with something of a smug grin. "I've played this song so many times I know it by heart." But just as he said that, his pinky finger hit the wrong key, and he chuckled good-naturedly as he stopped playing.

"That's not like you," Roxy pointed out in a softly teasing tone. "Have you been taking hubris lessons from Salem or something?"

"You might not be far off the mark, actually," Sykes said, standing from behind his piano. "He just left from here."

"What do you mean he was just here?!"

"Do you know where he went?"

"Calm down, please." As amused as Sykes seemed to have both Roxy and Jamie react that way, his expression soon turned serious, and he removed the half-moon glasses he was wearing to place them on the piano. "Yes, he was just here, but he stayed only long enough to compliment my playing. And no, I don't know where he went."

"Did you at least see which way he went down the hall?" Jamie asked.

Sykes chuckled again. "Come on. You've known Salem long enough to know that he only uses doors for dramatic effect."

"So he portaled out," Roxy groaned, running a hand down her face.

"Which means you're back to no leads, huh?" Jamie asked, shrugging in a casual way that made Roxy glad he was moving out of her reach. He moved all the way to the seldom-used armchairs in the far corner from most of Sykes's instruments and made himself comfortable.

"So, does that mean you're out?" She asked, watching as he swung his legs up and over the armrest and pulled out his phone.

"Yup, I think I've helped enough."

"You..." It was an effort to keep her voice calm. "You barely helped at all."

Jamie nodded. "Then I should quit while I'm ahead."

Roxy breathed out a long, tired sigh and turned back to Sykes.

"Did you happen to see a jewelled sword with Salem when he was here?"

"Afraid not. He stood right on the other side of the piano, so I only saw the top...one third or so of him."

"Alright," She sighed, resisting the urge to drag a hand down her face. "I'll wander around a bit more and maybe I'll just stumble upon him."

Sykes and Jamie both waved her out of the music room.

--

Previous

Next

First

[wickdcreatures]

      It was another late Friday night class, and as tradition states, nightclassers had to come out to the bar every Friday night if they wanted to be cool, and God, did Salem want to be cool. Maybe that’s why he took one too many shots.  Maybe that’s why he’s crawling home with a pounding headache, smelling of cigarette smoke and rum. It’s early morning when he gets home, the sun only an hour and a half away at most. His makeup runs, his shirt is soaked in sweat. Exhausted, he collapses onto his bed fully clothed, makeup still collecting in the creases under his eyes, deciding to sleep now, and worry about a shower later.

It comes over him fast — like his head was submerged in water. Like if he dared to breathe he would surely drown. His muscles go rigid, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he’s thrust into a dream that’s not his own. Marble bathed in neon. The smell of blood and pool water. Distant screams echoing off cold mansion walls. Soft piano. The familiar white hot pain of teeth breaching skin. Hands he knows grip his new, smaller frame much too tight. Teeth skin into flesh with loving brutality. His throat can barely contain a scream. The bed beneath him and his attacker is plush and luxurious. Narcissus perfume and blood fill his nose. Time moves too slowly and he chokes on each painful second — slow-motion, but he can feel each moment like an eternity. He can’t move, his new, smaller body — the hands grip him too tight and hold him to the bed. All he can move are his eyes, which land on the wall of mirrors situated at the end of the bed. But Salem’s own reflection is not what meets him. His reflection shows him Willow, tears streaking her cheeks, held in the jaws of Zero at his most monstrous. As if that was the key, Salem can take his first breath, the reflected Willow’s chest heaving with the severity of her own breath. As she screams, so does he — and then he’s sitting up in bed, in his apartment again, lungs burning as his voice echoes off the walls.

It takes a moment or two to collect himself — he had never believed that a scare could sober someone, but he thinks he understands now. The fog of alcohol didn’t stop him from finding his phone and dialing @unpossession with haste, but it helped him forget just how late at night it was — she was probably asleep, and a somber Salem wouldn’t dream of interrupting her too late at night. He isn’t thinking about that now. He just needs to know she’s safe.

[tjsplace]

aug 22

6.18 pm

i really don't know what to write this time. i feel way better. i was really depressed the past week. i'm glad it's subsided. this time. i'm really tired. went to the gym today with my best friend. i tried to manufacture a crush on him last week. then realized i was bored and dramatic. i can't ruin my friendship with him. he's super dear to me. he understands me and cares about me and vice-versa. another friend -my guitarist- is coming to my place in a bit so we can rehearse for the acoustic gig on saturday. i gotta find the stickers, i'd forgotten about that.

11.08 pm

should i start writing another novel? what could it even be about? do i even wanna write about romantic shit i haven't even experienced? or the shitty experiences with my ex fwb? he doesn't deserve it really. he doesn't deserve to be in a piece of my writing. he was such a shithead to me. should i write about leon and salem? should i even write in english? am i allowed to do that? maybe i should go to sleep. my throat is sore but i already drank a hot lemonade with honey. i still smoked like three cigarettes though. i wanna feel creative again. i did come up with a chord progression on the piano that i really like. i don't know, i have all this energy i don't know how to channel, especially because i don't wanna move from this chair. i don't wanna move from my desk. i love it here. but i'm out of cigarettes so maybe that means i should sleep. who knows? not me.

[steeleandvaughns]

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[historicsal132]

Piano Movers Salem is a family-owned and operated business that has been serving the Salem community for over three generations. We are dedicated to providing our customers with the highest quality piano moving services available. Our team of experienced piano movers has the knowledge and expertise to safely and securely move your piano to its new location. We understand that each piano is unique, and we take the time to properly assess your individual needs in order to provide you with a customized moving plan. Piano Movers Salem is committed to providing you with a stress-free moving experience, and we guarantee that your piano will arrive at its new home in pristine condition. Contact us today to schedule a free consultation. We look forward to serving you!

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Phone : 503-739-9247 Business Email : pianomoversofsalem@gmail.com

Payment Methods : All payment methods accepted

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[wutbju]

David Charles Friberg, son of Charles and Rosemary Adolphoson Friberg, was born in Rockford, Illinois, on October 2, 1943. He entered into the Joy of the Lord on February 10, 2023. David exhibited early his affinity for music, especially the "loud" possibilities of the organ. It was with encouragement from his aunt and music teacher, Pauline Roland, that he began piano lessons at age seven followed quickly by organ instruction. At 12 he was playing the organ for a chapel founded by the local Baptist church of which the family were dedicated members.

He lovingly recalls hearing--for the first time--Handel's Messiah professionally done and was awakened to beauty of this genre of music. As a 12-year old, he requested as a Christmas gift a copy of the score of the Messiah-he received two!

He attended public schools in Rockford and not surprisingly accompanied numerous choral groups in high school while also joining in participation with various singing organizations. Following graduation in 1961, he began an extended tenure at Bob Jones University, Greenville, SC. He entered college planning to study organ as well as for the ministry; but finding the schedule too demanding, the organ became his focus. After receiving his B.A. and M.A. in organ performance he remained on the faculty for 17 years eventually becoming the head of the Organ Department. It was during this period he was drafted into the Army during the Vietnam era. He was removed from his unit to fill the position as organist (for two years} at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. as others he had trained with left for the warzone.

Following his teaching at Bob Jones he moved to Bryan College in Dayton, Tn., where he served for nine years as Chairman of the Division of Fine Arts. It was during this period that he spent seven summers at the University of Kansas working toward his MM degree and doctorate. After a nine-year tenure at Bryan he joined the faculty of Covenant College, Lookout Mountain, where he chaired the music department retiring after 16 years. He also has served on the faculty of Chattanooga State.

He holds membership in The American Guild of Organist, the Chattanooga Music Club, and the MacDowell Music Club. In addition to his teaching positions he has served as organist (and sometimes choir director) with the following local churches: Central Baptist Church, Northside Presbyterian Church, Lookout Mountain Presbyterian Church, and Second Presbyterian Church. He was the original accompanist for Chattanooga Choral Arts serving in this capacity for 33 years. He has also participated as accompanist for the UTC Master Chorale.

He considered it a privilege to be an artist-fellow in organ and harpsichord at the Bach Aria Summer Institute in Stony brook, NY, but his most memorable experience was a Bach Organ Tour of Eastern Germany where he had the opportunity to play some of the same organs played by Bach. He also had the opportunity to play an original Tannenberg Organ at the Visitor's Center, Old Salem, NC. Concluding this sketch of Mr. Friberg's impact would be incomplete without noting and honoring the many "life's moments" shared by the people of Chattanooga and surrounding areas with him - service music, wedding music, memorial music, individual instruction, recitals, and organ dedications .... ad infinitum! He was predeceased by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Friberg, his sons, Christopher Friberg, Kevin Friberg, and younger sister, Sally Pofelski. He is survived by a host of students to whom he imparted a love of music; faculty members of four institutions who aided these efforts; his church family -- Second Presbyterian of Chattanooga; special friends, Dr. Ken Anderson, Dr. and Mrs. Jack Traylor, page-turner and companion, Norma C. Witherspoon. There will be a memorial service to celebrate David’s life at Second Presbyterian Church at a later date. Arrangements are under the care of the North Chapel of Chattanooga Funeral Home, Crematory and Florist, 5401 Highway 153, Hixson. Please share your thoughts and memories at www.chattanooganorthchapel.com.

[nashvillehq]

name: Elijah Ford gender & pronouns: Cis Man | He/him age & date of birth: 31 years old | December 10th, 1990 neighborhood: Berry Hill time living in nashville: 12 years occupation: Independent Producer, Song/Music writer

BACKGROUND.

The first born son of the Ford family, Elijah always felt like that title came with a certain level of responsibility. Cliche, sure, but it was a feeling that stayed resonated deep in his bones and it only got stronger the older he became. A constant pressure to be on top of things, to know better, to do more, and that there was always room for improvement. Especially when it came to their father, who he never saw eye to eye with. Maybe it was his protective nature, always sticking up for his mother when their father would start arguments. Perhaps he saw through the man’s words to who the liar he really was. Once it was revealed that his father was unfaithful to his mother, it was not as big of a surprise as it probably should have been. When they divorced it was easy to choose to stay with his mother and sister.

Music was always a passion, from the first song he heard on the radio to creating riffs with his sister at any given moment. To help quell his musical needs, he started piano lessons at a young age. Little did his parents know, it would set him on the path to his future career. As he got older it became more apparent that he had a keen ear for sounds, pitches, and matching words to bring a song to life. It started with Ryan, who was obviously a talent waiting to be discovered. He could help fill in blanks and they worked together to bring musical visions to life. Eventually that turned to local bands and online artists looking for help. Late at night he would be learning how to mix beats, loop voices together, and piece together songs instead of studying. Over the years he taught himself how to use equipment and software through trial and error and online tutorials. He used his money from his minimum wage high school job to buy more and more equipment to mess around with.

After he graduated, he stuck around home - working and saving to move to Nashville someday. Besides, he couldn’t imagine living far away from his family. Most of all, he couldn’t imagine going to Nashville without Ryan. Sure, she was his little sister, but in a lot of ways she was one of his best friends. There was no one in the world he believed in more than her and when she was finally discovered all he could say was it took them long enough. He moved to Music City, and while she began her career recording her first album - he started his by beginning to make a name for himself with up and coming artists. It took some work, but eventually his name started to hold recognition and it only elevated more when he helped produce Ryan’s second album. Soon he had regular work and began writing songs and music on the side to sell.

At some point along the way, he met Salem and they became a force in his life that he never wanted to leave. They worked together well, and with both of them working long hours they always seemed to find time to make sure they could spend quality time together (a love language they shared). Eventually they moved in together and made a home together. It’s still new but so far it’s been one of the best choices he ever made. Someday he hopes to pop the question, but after seeing not only his parents' marriage fail but Ryan’s as well, he is hesitant to rush into anything. Presently, he’s living in Berry Hill in a nice sized house with Salem and (recently) his sister after the end of her marriage. His schedule is kept busy where he works long periods of times with artists and has off periods where he can work on his side projects. At some point he started a dorky little band that he records nerdy, silly songs and covers with then posts them on the internet for fun with no consistency. He’s just trying to live his life, be successful, and take care of the people he loves in anyway he can.

[totally-lit-road-trips]

Chapter 23: Revolutions on a Rainy Day

Welcome back to my Totally Lit Road Trip blog, where the lit stands for literary! 

Today was our second full day in Concord, MA, and despite the steadily increasing rain, we managed to pack in a ton of literary sightseeing.

Our first stop was The Old Manse, a residence where both Ralph Waldo Emerson (who preferred to go by Waldo) and Nathanial Hawthorne lived at some point in their lives. Our tour guide was so knowledgeable and since it was just me and Jess on this tour, it was like having a private guide all to ourselves again. 

The first thing our guide stressed was that historians see The Old Manse as the birthplace of two different revolutions - The American Revolution, and the Cultural Revolution of Transcendentalism. The home was built in 1769 by Rev. William Emerson (Waldo’s grandfather), who was the minister of Concord. He married the former minister’s daughter, Phebe Bliss. Known as the “Patriot Preacher,” Rev. Emerson was heavily into politics and supported the revolution, making him very popular with his congregation. 

From the window of one of the upstairs bedrooms that would later become Waldo’s bedroom/study, Phebe Emerson and her five children, one of whom would become Waldo’s father, could see the literal beginning of the American Revolution - the first shots fired at the North Bridge. Years later, Waldo would coin the term “the shot heard round the world” in his 1837 poem “Concord Hymn,” which commemorated the Battles of Lexington and Concord.

Like his father and grandfather before him, Waldo’s first career path was that of a preacher, however, after the death of his first wife Ellen after only 18 months of marriage, Waldo felt he no longer had the calling of being a minister. Instead, he traveled around Europe for almost a year, meeting other leading authors of the time period, and beginning to shape his philosophies. From this point on, most of his income came from writing and speaking engagements. 

After the death of his grandfather, Waldo’s grandmother Phebe remarried, and it was years later when Waldo moved back to the house as an adult to care for his aging step-grandfather. During this time, he wrote “Nature,” the speech considered to be a founding text of the Transcendentalism movement.

Waldo was actually the person who suggested that Nathanial Hawthorne and his wife Sophia be taken on as renters of the home, and Hawthorne is the one who gave it the name “Old Manse”, manse being the British term for a minister’s home. Hawthorne and his wife, Sophia, lived there for about three years, during which he wrote the stories that would eventually come together to form his first successful book, Mosses from an Old Manse. He insisted on writing in the same room of the house which Waldo used as his study, although he had his desk face the wall because unlike Waldo, Hawthorne found nature to be distracting rather than inspiring. Sophia, and accomplished artist, spent much of her time in the house painting. Unfortunately, her last portrait, which she considered to be her best, is of whereabouts unknown.

The Hawthornes were eventually evicted because they were unable to continue paying their rent, due to a dry spell of both writing and artistic income. But they left their lasting marks on the home: Sophia engraved window panes with her diamond ring, and Nathanial left a hole in the house where he installed a stove in the kitchen. (He took the stove with them when they moved out.)

After this the Hawthornes moved to Salem, MA, where Nathanial would go on to write House of the Seven Gables and The Scarlet Letter, arguably his most famous work of fiction. They later moved back to Concord and lived at The Wayside, which is unfortunately not currently open to the public.

One of my favorite things in the house was a Steinway square grand piano, which is still in playable condition. In fact, the tour guides actually encourage guests to sit down and play a few chords to keep it in good working order! Obviously, I had to give it a go, and I can now say that I’ve played a square grand.

Another cool artifact in the house is a grandfather clock built in Limerick, Ireland, which still keeps accurate time when wound, and which stands in the original position in the house that it has occupied since Waldo’s grandfather purchased it.

The bookcases in the house are all built horizontally, and stacked on top of each other, unlike today’s bookshelves. Our tour guide told us that this is because the Emerson’s highly valued their tomes and wanted to be able to easily lift and slide the bookshelves out the windows in case of a fire.

And finally, I would be remiss if I failed to mention Longfellow, the preserved owl that resides at The Old Manse. Apparently no one know how he came to be in the house, but Nathanial Hawthorne found him in the attic when he moved in. The owl is believed to be from colonial times, meaning it existed before the house was built. Nathanial loved it and wanted it to be a centerpiece for conversation when guests came over, but Sophia was creeped out by it, leading to an unending “game” where she would hide it back up in the attic, and he would bring it down again and put it in a different room of the house.

After our wonderful tour of The Old Manse, we stopped for a quick bit to eat at Main Streets Café, where I had a mac ‘n cheese grilled cheese sandwich. That’s right folks, deep fried mac ‘n cheese wedges on a sandwich with even more delicious, cheesy gooiness. Highly recommend.

With our bellies full, we headed over to Emerson House, the home Emerson lived in with his second wife and four children.  Emerson House is massive! There are so many rooms and split-levels and doors that lead who knows where. You could get lost in there without a tour guide, but luckily we had a team of lovely women to lead us through the house both physically and historically. 

Unfortunately, you can’t take pictures inside Emerson House, but here’s me standing out front in the rain.

One of the coolest things about Emerson house is that, unlike the other authors’ homes in the areas which are all owned by trusts or preservation societies, Emerson House is still owned by direct descendants of Waldo. They take care of the upkeep and allow the Ralph Waldo Emerson Memorial Association to give tours.

Here are some interesting facts we learned about Emerson and his home, in no particular order:

In July 1872, a fire broke out in the attic of the home. Luckily, no one was injured, and they even managed to get all of the furniture (and more importantly, all of the books!) out in time. (Possible due to easily yeet-able bookshelves?) Due to smoke and water damage, the house was unlivable for a time. Emerson did have the house insured, but the whole town banded together to raise additional funds for restoring the home. Different neighbors also volunteered to keep the family’s belongings safe until the home was livable again.  While the house was being reconstructed, Emerson and his daughter traveled to Europe and Egypt, and when they returned, the town had a celebration in their honor, and even closed schools for the day!

Waldo was at least six feet tall, and as such would have to duck in some of the lower hallways of the home. He hung his gardening hat on a peg which only he was tall enough to reach.

The Emersons entertained visitors from all over, and Waldo almost never turned away guests, even unannounced ones. He was very generous if people asked for money, and never let anyone leave without a meal.

As a friend of Waldo, Henry David Thoreau lived in the house for long spans of time on multiple occasions. He typically stayed in the room that was meant to be for Waldo’s brother Charles, who tragically died before his wedding. It took Waldo 10 years to finish the room and eventually make it the master bedroom, but Thoreau stayed there frequently. He was a fan favorite of Emerson’s four children, who could often see him approaching the carriage entrance from their window in the nursery. They loved him because he made good popcorn and told good stories.

Waldo was a great friend to the Alcott family. He allowed Louisa May Alcott to use his library and often gave her book recommendations. Alcott’s first book, Flower Fables, is dedicated to Waldo’s daughter, Ellen. Waldo also lent many pieces of art to Louisa’s sister, the artist May Alcott, including one piece that was a wedding gift! She would make copies of the paintings, a common practice for aspiring artists at the time.

And finally, every single room in Emerson House has at least one bookshelf. That right there is life goals.

Right across the street from Emerson House is the Concord Museum, so that was our next stop. This museum has many interactive exhibits and mainly focuses on Concord’s Revolutionary War history, although it does also have a fair share of local author and artist history, as well. 

One of the first things you encounter in the museum’s foyer is a replica of Thoreau’s writing desk, which you can sit at and write in a little notebook there.

The original green desk is in one of the galleries as you walk through.

The museum also has many odds and ends from the different local authors. One is Emerson’s writing desk, which was originally green, but then he later painted it black. The replica that resides at The Old Manse is green. 

One of Louisa May Alcott’s tea kettles, which she brought with her when she served as a Civil War nurse, is also at the museum. 

Also on display is the entirety of Emerson’s study, displayed exactly as they were in his lifetime. Everything in the room is the original!

Finally, there is a room dedicated to Thoreau’s belongings, including his bed frame, a wooden flute, and some pencils and surveying tools.

A large portion of the Concord population were abolitionists, and although she was not a native of Concord, the museum does have a first edition of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which was originally published in two volumes.

We were lucky enough to be visiting during the Concord Free Public Library’s 150 Years of Art Celebration, so there was a special exhibit with art pieces that are usually at the library. This included busts of Hawthorne, Thoreau, and Alcott, as well as one of May Alcott’s paintings. The largest piece in the library’s collection is a portrait of Emerson, with a rainbow in the background.

After leaving the museum, we browsed for a bit at Concord Bookshop and then drove over to Walden Pond once it finally stopped raining. There, we were able to visit the replica of Thoreau’s writing cabin, which is very small! The original cabin was located on the other side of the pond, but is no longer standing. Visitors who are into hiking can hike up to the point where the cabin once stood and where many admirers leave rocks as a sign that they’ve been there. (Not me and Jessica. We’re indoor people!)

We ended our night with some sushi at Karma (highly recommend the Golden Banana Roll...banana and eel, who knew?!), and ice cream at Bedford Farms, where their “small” is my “large”. 

In two and a half days, we managed to squeeze in every literary and historical attraction that we planned for, which is pretty impressive, especially considering the rain. It was definitely made easier by the fact that everything in Concord is so close to each other.

Before we head home tomorrow, we hope to stop by the North Bridge, the site of the beginning of the American Revolution. Hopefully the rain will hold up long enough to let us walk to the bridge and see Daniel Chester French’s Minute Man statue.

Stay tuned for more literary/historical adventures!

<3 Theresa

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Black Butler: Book of Madness

Animelover660

Summary:

Salem Crowe has a newly formed contract with a young Lord by the name of Theodore Kline. When Ciel decides it's time to look into the new Earl and actually meet him he doesn't expect to meet an 18-year-old male prostitute and an incredibly kind butler of the Kline Estate. Theodore and Ciel immediately hate each other and Salem finds himself slightly intrigued with the Phantomhives' butler, Sebastian Michaelis. As always, things seem to be going great until everything spirals into complete and utter madness.

Notes:

Theodore Kline does not belong to me and neither does Gary Sutcliff. Theodore belongs to MercenaryBlood and Gary is my 7-year-old sisters character. Thank you :)

Chapter 1: His Butler, Alone

Chapter Text

Third Person POV

"Your grace, it's time to wake up. You have an exquisite dark chocolate cranberry coffee cake and some Kuding tea from China for breakfast and afterwards you need to practice playing the piano followed by your dancing lessons. There is a ball at the Phantomhive estate in a few days and you must be prepared," Salem said as he opened the curtains to let the light illuminate the room.

The blonde man grumbled and moved his face into his clean pillow to shield his eyes from the sun, but made no move to get out of his warm bed. His butler sighed, frustration evident in his features. He tried once more to awaken his master.

"Please don't be difficult this morning your grace. Your tea will get cold soon, you really must get up."

When Theodore still didn't move Salem frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting like a 3 year old who didn't get their way. He tried not to start wining, but it was getting quite difficult when the young man wouldn't even acknowledge his presence. Salem stood for a few more moments with his arms crossed before huffing and crossing the room to stand over his stubborn master as the male just snored lightly and continued to ignore him. His butler poked him in the ribs lightly which caused him to let out a muffled laugh since his face was still buried in his pillow. Salem grinned down at his master and cracked each of his fingers one by one.

"Oh, Master Theo... I did tell you that you should get up..." He put his hands on the blondes sides and started moving his fingers vigorously, making Theodore laugh uncontrollably and attempt to move away from him on the bed. Salem dragged him back over and straddled the mans body to prevent his escape, continuing to tickle his master.

"S-Salem! Stop! Please! I'll get up, I'll get up!"

His Butler smiled happily at his young Lord and moved off of the mattress to stand next to the bed, towering over Theodore.

"As you wish, your grace."

Theodore scowled up at Salem and got out of bed angrily. He grabbed the green-haired butlers arm and pulled him over to the door, shoving him out of his bedroom.

"I have a client coming. Fix my schedule immediately. I don't want anyone bothering me, am I clear? A gentleman by the name of Gerald Fitz should be arriving soon and I want you to show him to my bed chambers. Do you understand?"

Salem was refusing on the inside, but knew he couldn't say no to his master. He hated it when Theodore would do inappropriate things with his body. As much as the man hated to admit it, he was developing feelings for Theodore. Not romantic feelings, but he started loving his Lord as a brother, wanting to protect him at all costs. He didn't want a scratch on his master and would gladly accept the injuries in his Lords place.

He sighed heavily and looked down, bowing slightly. "Yes, your grace."

Salem's POV

I walked away from my Lords shut door and made my way to the room Theodore told me would be my bedroom when I first became his butler 3 years ago. I sat on my bed and stared at the green walls and black trimming. I told master I didn't need my room decorated, but he insisted and gave me black furniture with green and black sheets to match the walls. My Lord didn't usually eat breakfast, so I wasn't surprised that he wasn't going to be eating and would be in his room until his guest arrived. But, until Mr. Fitz showed up I would be alone. I sat there and wondered what to do. I decided to take a shower in the bathroom that was connected to my room since I would be by myself for at least 30 minutes to an hour. I grabbed a black tailcoat identical to the one I was wearing and regulated the water. As the temperature was adjusting I stripped out of my clothing and folded it neatly, setting it on the edge of the clean white sink. Stepping into the shower, I thought about the ball that the Pantomhive estate was going to have. I remembered he was known as the Queens guard dog and reminded myself to tell Theodore to be careful around him. After washing myself completely I stepped out and dried my pale body with a fluffy towel and dressed myself after setting the towel back in it's place. I walked out of my room only to hear a loud knock come from the main entrance. When I opened the door I saw a man in his mid forties standing outside. I bowed to him and started speaking while trying to contain the hate in my voice.

"Good morning, I'm glad you could make it sir. I'm Salem and I've been ordered to escort you to my masters bed chambers. If you'll come with me we'll head there right away," I told him and closed the door behind him. It was dead silent as I lead him to my Lords bedroom. I knocked and heard Theodore's voice telling me to come in. I opened the door for the man and told my master to call me if there was anything he needed. He brushed it off and frowned.

"I will need nothing from you," he told me. "Just go. I'm done with you."

I felt my chest tighten and forced a small smile to grace my lips. I spoke even as my heart was cracking in my chest, turning black at my young Lords words. I bowed and replied to him.

"Of course, your grace."

I shut the door and left my master to his client. My shoes tapped loudly against the hardwood floor, but nothing could be as loud as my heart as I kept replaying his words in my head.

I'm done with you.

I smiled sadly and cast my eyes down toward the floor. I've always hated being alone, but after 3 years with my young master I've learned to accept being by myself since there is no one else. I'm the only one who works for the Kline estate other than a man that drives the carriage when I'm busy. I walk to my room, ready for the darkness and never ending silence to consume me. I lay in the bed for what seems like an eternity before shutting my eyes tightly to stop the memories from flooding my mind. I put my hand over my heart and let my mind rest, going into a peaceful sleep. At least when I'm asleep I don't feel lonely or forgotten.

Chapter 2: His Butler, Regretful

Chapter Text

Theodore's POV

"Leave."

"But, Theo.." The man started.

"No! Don't call me that! Get out of my chambers, now!" I screamed, tears streaming down my pale face rapidly. I hear my bedroom door open and look up to see Salem standing in the doorway, clenching his fists and glaring at my client with anger and disgust.

"He said for you to leave, sir. I would implore you to obey his request," my butler said, calmly. I could tell he was holding himself back from tearing the human apart. Gerald laughed under his breath and grabbed ahold of me by my hair, making the sheet I was holding to cover myself slip out of my grasp as I gripped his hand to claw at it. As much as I clawed at his hand he didn't loosen his grip on my hair and just tightened his hold, making me gasp in pain. I looked at Salem and saw him smiling, allowing his sharp canines to peak out from his plump lips. His eyes had turned red, his scelara black and his pupils were now slits as he giggled eerily at the man holding me. I started shaking and closed my eyes. I knew he wouldn't want me to watch him showing his true self.

"Let go of him." Came his distorted voice. I cringed and closed my eyes tighter, trying to shrink in on myself the best I could in my current position. I felt the air thicken and the room go silent as I was dropped back onto my bed like a ragdoll. I covered my ears when the screams of anguish filled the room that had once been quiet. After a few moments I uncovered my ears and heard a thump. I felt a hand touch my naked shoulder and shrunk away from the cold flesh. The person sighed and I opened my eyes a fraction to see who it was. My green eyes met the almost clear blue eyes that had green vines woven in them and I sighed in relief. I leaned on Salem's chest and gripped his hips tightly. I felt him stroke my hair and hum a lullaby to sooth me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Salem. I'm so sorry..."

"Shhhh..." He cooed. "Rest now. I forgive you."

I wanted to stay awake and make sure he knew I loved him, but my eyes betrayed me and I drifted into a peaceful slumber filled with my caring butler.

'Oh Salem, I wish I could tell you how I feel...'