A Stop In Harmony

By James Hauenstein

This story is about Johnny Zoso. A freelance music journalist assigned to cover the 60th anniversary of the Monterey Pop Festival. While driving along the Cabrillo Highway on his way to the festival, he notices a billboard indicating that the next town coming up is having a one of a kind book sale. He loves books. So he takes the exit and heads into town, not knowing that a stop in the City of Harmony will change his life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Hauenstein
• Release date: Feb 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215056196

James Hauenstein

Husband, Father, Grandfather, and Great Grandfather who loves to Read, Write, or Listen to a good Poem, Story, or Song.

Book preview

Caput Unus

I’m going to get to the heart of the matter and not beat around the bush as they say. Or even try to beat a bush physically. Like all living things, plants have feelings too! And all I can tell you is, their understanding of the English language, or any language, is a little suspect. They seem key in on certain words being said when you are having a conversation with someone, instead of listening to every word being spoken.

If a thorn bush is nearby, five out of ten times you will end up getting pricked by one of its needles if you talk about cutting the grass, trimming the hedges, chopping down a tree, or any other yard duty which inflicts pain upon a plant.

If you would like to test this theory, go walking in the Arizona desert one day and look for a cluster of Corona de Cristo bushes. Then start spouting out the phrase; Going to beat around the bush. Say it loud and clear. Going to beat around the bush!

I'll give you about ten minutes before you trip on an exposed root. Falling completely into the center of the thorniest part of the attacking shrubbery. It will feel like the Corona de Cristo is wrapping its branches around you, holding you in.

Do you remember seeing the root exposed before you fell? Of course not. It wasn't there.

Plants have an uncanny way of anticipating when and where they will trip you. So when you look back at the spot, it will look like it’s been there all along. You'll just think that you missed seeing it.

It usually takes plants several minutes to react to you though, because all plant life think in a leisurely fashion. That might be why they only focus on those certain words you have been saying?

Basically, any living entity that uses photosynthesis for growth, has a thought process comparable to primates that are apathetic as the Slow Loris or as lethargic as your average Couch Potato who is still living at home with his parents.

Because of their aggressive self-preservation behavior, I keep all of my medicinal, fragrant, and potion enhancing plants outside in a greenhouse. In this way, none of the plants will know ahead of time, when I bring one of them into my house, that I will either need its seeds, stems, flowers, or those prickly needles we've been discussing for one of my concoctions.

The only saving grace for using plants is that they don't have any long-term memory. There isn’t a place for them to store any new cognitive impressions since plants don’t have a brain you or I would recognize. Plants have what botanists like to call is a learned behavior.

They do focus on those threatening words, which they have heard over and over throughout the millennium in one form or another. This explains their hostilities towards mankind. They can feel a person’s intent because of man’s repeated bad behavior towards them.

Plants also have the same range of emotions as any creature in the animal kingdom. But if you don’t feel good about something, or haven't figured out that hairy little bees help your species multiply by pollinating others of your kind, you might as well say adios, adieu, cheerio, toodle-loo.

Plants evolve by natural selection from repetitive behavior. The ones who work with other creatures and atmospheric conditions to spread their pollen and seeds, survive.

On this, Darwin was right. Just don't get me started on any of that other dogma he talked about. (Evolution humor:)

Plants also communicate with each other. It’s by a vibe they give off to one another. It’s a way for a single plant to communicate with other plants.

So naturally, once I bring a plant back into my greenhouse after I have clipped off some of its flowers and leaves, it will send a vibe that only the closest plants can feel. Those plants will in turn communicate to the ones closest to them and so on. Until either there are no longer any plants to vibe the story to or the vibe has changed so dramatically that the next plant doesn't understand its meaning. In the meantime, the first plant has already forgotten the vibe he or she started, and begins the process of replenishing itself through photosynthesis.

Knowing these things might not be very interesting or important to you now, but it could later. Especially when it comes time to learn how to communicate with plants by their vibe. A basic understanding on how they feel is essential.

Now you might be asking yourself, Why would I want to learn how to vibe to a plant?

Well let me tell you why.

If you ever find yourself running for your life through a courtyard from a decedent of Cerberus, which has no name that we can speak of, and he is about to bite down onto one of your legs, a little vibe, calling for a tree to lower a branch down far enough to trip the three-headed canine from Hades, just might give you enough time to escape its triple jaws. As it did for me.

Is that a good enough reason to learn how to vibe to plants? Self-preservation?

There is a lot of danger out there in the World for a novice Wizard, such as I was when it happened to me. Controlling one's own surrounding environment might be the difference between living a long life or being a meal for some creature that you thought was only mythical.

When a young wizard or witch starts to understand their craft, from the good to the bad, there will be demons, deities, spirits, Demigods, and everything in between trying to recruit them for their own means. From Abaddon, the king of the abyss or bottomless pit, to Zepar, the Duke who causes women to fall in love. All will be after their souls. It’s the name of the game they play.

And one’s soul is their prize!

Caput Duo

Isaid I wasn’t going to beat around the bush and all I did was get ahead of myself and babble about plants.

Maybe I should just start from the beginning. It’s less confusing for me.

My life began to change the day I stopped at the small town of Harmony, California.

Population? A whopping 18 people.

I was driving up the Cabrillo Highway from San Luis Obispo, heading towards Monterey for the 60th anniversary of the famous Pop Festival held back in 1967. Some of the hottest acts of today were scheduled to be there. The Mudsharks, Question Authority, Swimming in London, and the headliners, Two Buck Howie with the Exact Change.

I'm Johnny Zoso. And yes, my parents were big fans of the Rock N' Roll group Led Zeppelin from back in the day. Especially their fourth album with the word Zoso written on the inside of the album jacket. (Everyone bought albums back then. Not just DJs.)

The band started playing music in the late 1960s but my parents loved them so much they legally changed their last name to Zoso when they got married, right after high school, in 1989.

Please don't ask me what everyone asks. Why don't you change your last name to something that isn’t an obvious idyllic idol worship of the Hippie generation?

My three older siblings and I were born into this world with the name of Zoso, so it’s our surname. Our name. So get over it. I did.

I guess I should tell you what I did back then and sometimes still do for a living. My business cards say I'm a freelance music writer living in Southern California.

I had an assignment from Rock Band Music Magazine. I was to write about the latest Monterey music festival.

Their limited magazine circulation is mostly on the East Coast of the United States, up in Canada, and parts of Western Europe. Of course their online circulation is worldwide, so I never have to worry about getting paid when I send them a bill.

On my drive up along the coast I decided to stop at the City of Harmony. First, because I couldn't hold it any longer. Second, outside of town they had a billboard advertising their biggest book sale of the year. The sign read; From First Edition Hard Covers to One-Hundred-Year-Old Best Sellers.

This I had to see.

I like the old style of books. With paper, a binder, and either a hard or soft cover. I would never read one of course. My e-Reader is too versatile now that a music score is being played along with what the person is reading.

I still can't figure out how it knows what word I'm on just by following my eyes. It never fails to play exciting music at the most thrilling part of a story, quiet sounds when the atmosphere of the story is set at night, or that 70’s funk music when two people are making love.

I collect real books because of my parents. They taught me to love and value old movies, TV shows, music, books, and just about anything that could be a tangible antique. Stay away from those imaginary investment opportunities, they would tell us kids. Buy something that lasts. (Sound advice. Have you bought any NFTs and Bitcoins yet?)

I tell my friends that books are an investment that someday I'll be able to hand down to my kids.

Most of the time this will bring out the laughter from my male friends and sighs of pity from my female friends. They all say, You need to have a girlfriend first before you can think about having any children.

I'm only 30 years old, I would reply. There's still time.

Last year I said I was only 29. The year before that, well, you get the idea.

Caput Trēs

After heading over to Harmony’s Glassworks Art Studio & Gallery to use the facilities and to purchase a small multicolored green glass horned frog, if I wanted to use said facilities, I walked across the street to the Harmony Valley Creamery. The largest building in town. They no longer supplied milk or cream to the folks up and down the coast of California. In fact, it hasn't operated as a creamery since 1955, but for a building built in 1869, it was in superb condition. It now doubles as Harmony's Post Office and as an indoor Swap Meet.

There was a white cardboard sign posted outside on the front door, colorfully written, telling customers; Today Only – Harmony’s Obscure Book – Swap Meet – Extravaganza!

As my luck would have it, I just happened to come at the right time.

I didn't see any cars parked in front of the building, so it was quite astonishing to see around 100 people shuffling about the place purchasing books and other odd knick knacks. I asked someone if there was parking in the back that I hadn't noticed and she gave me a look of, Who’s this fool?

Then I laughed to myself thinking, They must all rideshare around here in those autonomous taxis.

I didn’t know it until later, since this was the first time I ever met other worldly creatures who looked like you and me, that most of them have alternative means of transportation.

I didn’t understand who they were because I still believed these types of beings were not real. I thought they were the imagination of book writers and movie producers. You know, mythological folklore and such.

Until you enter the world of the Macabre, the Metaphysical, the Mystic, the Necromantic, and the Supernatural, as either a victim, companion, or as I, a Wizard, you believe something as vain as a Vampire only exists in the movies. Stories of Demons and Demigods are written to scare little children around a campfire. That Frankenstein's Monster was never truly alive. He only terrorized those villagers on the silver screen.

Except you would be wrong. With the cosmetic surgery that can be performed by today's surgeons, there are about seven million Frankenstein's Monsters leading normal lives across the globe. From India, China, Germany, to the United States, Frankenstein's creations pass themselves off as normal as you or I.

Check the internet for a News Media website and look for a section called Bazaar News, or something to that effect. See if there aren't any stories written about body parts being stolen from clinics or missing from drunken sailors in eastern ports of call from time to time. The body part trade is a billion-dollar industry, not only with transplant customers waiting for a donor, but with Frankenstein's Monsters who want to live forever.

Oh, and by the way, The Grimm Fairy Tales, first written by Jacob Grimm in 1812, those are actually true! You know, the ones about Rapunzel, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, and the rest. I thought you should know this before you try telling them to your kids before bedtime and scarring them for life. You never know when you might come across one in the middle of the night.

Caput Quattuor

After walking around a bit, I noticed that none of the books I saw were ever on the New York Times or Los Angeles Times Best Sellers Lists. If a book did have an author’s name on it, it was unrecognizable to me. I must have ventured into an independent publishing book sale.

Still, most of the hardcover books were first run editions. If I was lucky enough to pick the right author, the right book, I might have a golden opportunity to get ahold of an early piece from a future star.

After venturing around for a while longer, I stopped next to an indiscreet, smallish type of booth, with nothing on it but a few pamphlets. It was manned by a woman, maybe in her early 50’s. She wore clothing that emphasized a shape that would make most men wish that they were in their 50’s.

I asked if she had anything hidden behind her booth that someone like me would be interested in reading. She looked at me with the deepest, blackest eyes and all she said was, Yes.

It was the sultriest voice I have ever heard. I stood there staring at her for a moment taking in all her bewitching beauty. Her face was without any makeup. Her skin was smooth and wrinkle free. Her lips had their own color, making them stand out without any lipstick. Her hands were of a woman's half her age, with nails as long as small daggers, and painted as black as her eyes. Even her hair was black as night, except for one streak of silver, which dangled in front of her left eye.

I have the perfect tome for you, she was saying, as she bent down to pull out, with both hands, a beautifully crafted, extremely large volume, from behind her booth. The cover, which looked metallic, seemed to flow with bright colors in the areas where her hands touched the book.

All I could think of asking her was, Tome?

She looked up at me with a smile that said, I see that you have a lot to learn. It means it’s an especially large book.

I fell under her spell each time she spoke.

I've been waiting for you Johnny. The book has been waiting for you. It chooses who it will teach next and it has chosen you.

After pausing for a moment, waiting for me to react, she said in her seductive voice, My life will become mortal again, now that I hand over the reins of the book to you. Three hundred dollars please.

I grabbed the brown gift bag, with my new reading material inside, as I handed my debit card to her. Once I had the tome in my possession, her enchantment over me faded away quickly and I asked, How do you know my name?

Sorry, closing up early today, came an ordinary, elderly woman’s voice. The book is now yours. It will answer all of your questions in due time.

I stared at her again. Not for the same reasons I stated before. It seemed, since I now had the book in my possession, her outer appearance began changing. Her chest became flat, the whites of her eyes turned yellowish, the back of her hands wrinkled and became spotted. It was as if she was growing old before my very eyes.

At this point, she started mumbling to herself. Something about, Six hundred years I have carried the burden. Now I can rest. No longer my burden. I can rest.

I got out of there in a hurry at that point. I was afraid that she did mean her age was 600 years old and she was going to turn into a pile of dust right before my eyes. It kind of scared me.

Back on the highway, heading north, I kept thinking about what had just happened at the swap meet. Key phrases kept popping up into my brain. Like; the book will answer all of your questions, her life will become mortal again, 600 years, she can rest now, and 300 dollars.

Three hundred bucks! I yelled out loud to myself. How the hell did I get duped for 300 bucks for a book I never even opened?

I finally reached my hotel in the city of Monterey, picked up the electronic key for my room and made sure the closet had a large enough safe to throw my book into.

Then I took a shower. All the time kicking myself mentally for being such a sucker. Three hundred bucks? What was I thinking?

Caput Quīnque

For the following two days, the Monterey Festival went off without a hitch. I can't compare it to the original one back in 1967 since I wasn't born until 25 years later. But, as far as Rock Festivals go, in this day and age, it rocked. In my opinion, Swimming in London stole the show. I like hard core female rock bands. They epitomize everything that is Rock N' Roll. The only male member of the band was the percussionist.

After sending my review of the festival to the editor of Rock Band Music Magazine via his email, I booked my room at the hotel for an extra two days with my own money. I wanted a chance to relax and see what kind of material was inside the book that I bought.

That first night after the music festival, I took out the brown gift bag from the safe. Removing the manuscript, I felt the cover for the first time. Strangely, it felt like a soft metal. Lead, I imagined. Because of its somewhat pliability. Yet lead doesn't have an effusion of different colors rippling across it where your fingers or palms touch.

The written language on the cover was unrecognizable for me at the time. Later I knew, by the internet educating me, it was an early form of the written Sumerian language. Undaunted, I opened the book to the first page. Each page felt like a leafy material. Maybe hemp. I guessed.

But dammit, it was written in the same language as the cover. I threw the book off the edge of the bed, never seeing it land. I was pissed. What the Hell did I buy?

Caput Sex

In the morning, when I got out of bed, I stepped over the book on the floor, never looking down at it. I took a shower, got dressed, hung the "Do not