Encounter in a Small Cafe

By Jon Batson

Tom is not sure why his grandfather wants to see him, but Grandpa Tom is taking his own sweet time to tell the tale, a tale going back to the 1700’s. In the final days of the Civil War, the Cape Fear area is the subject of intense attention. Confederate Blockade Runners bring in desperately needed supplies via the Wilmington train. The engineer is a hero to his nephew, from whose trembling lips we hear the untold story of Gaston’s Last Run. In the uncertain days before the Second World War, a sailor on the pride of the fleet, the North Carolina, and a young local girl, meet and fall in love at the Lumina Pavilion on the Carolina coast. A study in spontaneous inevitability, a young man finds himself short on options and meets a young woman in a similar situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Batson
• Release date: Dec 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465705358

Jon Batson

Jon Batson is a prolific award-winning writer, talented entertainer and the driving force behind Midnight Whistler Publishers (MWP), an independent press located in Raleigh, NC. He publishes well-written, insightful, and thought-provoking non-fiction that focuses on education, politics and government. His six fact-based fiction books are intentionally provocative and refreshingly entertaining. Jon lives with his wife, Eileen, in Raleigh, NC and is currently writing his next novel. Visit www.MidnightWhistler.com and www.TheRealJonBatson.com Email [e-mail]

Book preview

Encounter in a Small Café

A Round Dozen Short Stories

by

Jon Batson

Copyright © 2009 by Jon Batson

Smashwords Edition

A special thanks goes to the

Lower Cape Fear Historical Society

for allowing me to participate in their contest

and for choosing my stories as winning

entries three years in a row.

For more information, contact

http://www.LatimerHouse.org/

910-762-0492

Midnight Whistler Publishers

http://www.MidnightWhistler.com

[e-mail]

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to events, locales or persons living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

First Edition Trade Paperback July, 2009

Designed by Eileen Batson

Manufactured in the United States of America

Powder Monkey of Cape Fear

Second place winner in the 2005 Lower Cape Fear Historical Society Short Story Contest. Published in Encore Magazine, Wilmington, N.C. and Durham Skywriter, Durham, N.C.

Gaston’s Last Run

First place winner in the 2006 Lower Cape Fear Historical Society Short Story Contest. Published in Encore Magazine, Wilmington, NC.

Love at the Lumina Pavilion

First place winner in the 2007 Lower Cape Fear Historical Society Short Story Contest, published in Encore Magazine, Wilmington, NC.

Encounter in a Small Cafe

A study in spontaneous inevitability. Appeared in the Durham Skywriter, December 2006.

The Stone

Flash Fiction - 100 words

In the PM's Pocket

It's a warm afternoon and our character is having a drink with the Prime Minister, who has a question. Simple questions lead to dark answers and then to intricate solutions. Is this how the world is run? Perhaps.

Safe Return

A who-done-it from a different view. Follow a Beverly Hills dog-napper as he stalks one of the most famous pooches of the day. Stealing the dog is only half the job. There's also dealing with state-of-the-art pet-security in a micro-chip age.

Starbucks Encounter

A businessman and a writer have a chance encounter that is as puzzling as it is enlightening.

The Writing Lesson

A teacher ponders the future of one of his students, a young woman writing about her life, but in fiction.

Freaks

What do we accomplish without passion and dedication? Do these things set us apart from the crowd? When a young girl is called a freak by an unkind schoolmate, her father points out that anyone who excels at their art is to some degree a freak.

The Showdown Saloon

A journalist in the 1880s interviews a number of citizens in a town on the Western edge of our emerging nation. He begins with his own story.

Children will be Children

A school boy sitting outside of the principal's office – but with one small additional detail. This was written shortly before this book was put together, from the suggested opening line.

Introduction

At one point in my career I discovered that it pleased me to know that people appreciated my writing. That was when I wrote songs and stage shows. I would peek through the curtain and watch the audience smile and laugh, applaud and enjoy the show, even though it wasn't me on stage.

A few years ago, I began writing a book. A few short stories followed and then an epic and so on and so forth. I figured I could write stories and you, dear reader, would read them and would enjoy them. Everybody wins!

Most of my stories start out in the early morning, rattling around in my head as dreams until I wake up, run to the computer and do my best to get it down. If I can, I'll manage to throw on a robe and down a protein shake, then tap at the computer until I have the whole story or a good part of it, sometimes until late in the afternoon.

So I do hope you enjoy this collection of short stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Jon Batson

What they're saying...

I read your fun Safe Return. I could hear you in every sentence. Easy reading, nice payoff, and a few surprises.

Gary Young, Author

Jon Batson is not just a writer, but a storyteller. His gift is making you experience what his characters feel and see while he slings irony and witty asides that make others wonder why you're laughing so hard. He looks closer at the ordinary world and determines what extraordinary things a person can do given the right circumstances. The result is a story that won't be put down.

Alice Osborn, author, editor and teacher of Write from the Inside Out.

Colorful, engrossing, and highly entertaining! Jon Batson has produced an evocative collection of engaging characters whose lives unfold in amusing, tragic and often unexpected ways that send the imagination gliding over each one's winding paths, hairpin curves and jarring potholes with the artistic finesse of a truly masterful storyteller.

Karen Michelle Raines, poet/author

Batson's stories are contemporary yet reminiscent of an earlier time – O'Henry, Raymond Carver and Edgar Allen Poe come to mind. Luckily for us although the aforementioned have gone onto their last edit, Jon will be with us for a long time.

Steven Elliot, Falls River Books

Powder Monkey of Cape Fear

I suppose you could say I stumbled over my inheritance. After all, I stumbled over everything else in life. I stumbled over my college grant and wound up majoring in horticulture instead of theater. I stumbled over my job making television commercials when a favor to a friend turned into a career. Planning was obviously wasted on me.

Let’s go back. It was not too long ago that I received a call from my grandfather Thomas, age 89, saying that he would like to see me before he moved along in the great scheme of things.

Grandfather Thomas Wilfred Donnalson was the colorful old man of the family who was always fond of saying things like that, or It’s Earth, y’know – no one’s gettin’ out alive.

I was named for my eloquent grandfather, as he was named for his grandfather and he was named for his. The last name, however, seemed to change with every voter registration. Grandfather Thomas’s grandfather was Thomas Wilfred Donnallton and his grandfather was Thomas Wilfred Donnally, and before him the enigma of the family, Thomas Wilfred Donny, 1698-1763.

The finer points of a cloudy family history, missing certain parts and shrouded in mystery, had been pretty boring to me even as a child. Now at twenty-six I had other things on my mind; but being a dutiful grandson, I made some time and headed down to Grampa Tom’s place in Wilmington.

As I pulled my Jeep off Oleander, the familiar off-white sand and long-needle pine trees reminded me of earlier days visiting Grampa. The house had since become his ‘Hermitage’ and was sorely in need of repair.

You gotta be kiddin’ me! I said aloud, noticing the overgrown yard and neglected porch. Grampa’s boat sat in the yard, not looking very seaworthy.

Don’t sell ‘er short, said a scratchy voice from within. She’s withstood everything Ol’ Lady Nature could throw. Come in, Tom.

Grampa Tom? I said, pulling open the storm door.

Come in and sit down. There’s a few things to go over and I feel something powerful pulling at me.

How are you doing? I tried to sound like I could do something about it if the answer was bad.

Oh! Me? I’m doing great! I just can’t stay long. Got places to go and I’m packin’ light. No one takes a knapsack into heaven.

I smiled – I was in the right place. Gramps was his old enigmatic self.

What’s up, Grampa?

Sit down. There’s history to impart.

I pulled up a straight-backed chair, the only one in sight, and sat down to await the ramblings of the colorful old dodger with a patient smile.

Don’t gimme that smile; that’s your father’s smile, I’d know it anywhere. It’s that ‘Go on, rattle away’ smile I always get from him. Listen up, this is important.

OK, OK, sorry, I said, pulling my chair a half-inch closer and trying not to do my father’s cynical smile.

Why do you think you’re a Donnalson? He flashed an elfish twinkle.

Never thought about it. It was true. I hadn’t.

Why not a Donnallton or a Donnally or he paused to be sure he had my attention, then said with great import, a Donny.

The old man sat back, smiling, waiting for the light bulb to go off in my head. When it didn’t, the luster faded from his face.

Alright, boy, I can see I’m in for it. It was easy for me to change it to Donnalson. It was wartime, records were slippery – Giuseppe Verde became Joe Green due to anti-Italian sentiment, Viktor Schmidt became Vic Smith, and so on. Lots of people changed their names, but I changed it because Donnallton was getting a bit familiar in these parts.

Why?

For the same reason that my grandfather changed it from Donnally and his grandfather changed it from Donny – Blackbeard’s treasure.

My eyebrows went up.

"I see I have