The real and imaginative adventures of Dennis Spielman

Author: Dennis Page 61 of 175

Moral Compass

After returning home from a business trip, Chuck is greeted by a foul smell that leads him to a dead body that looks like him and killed by a compass he had written about in his book.


A pungent smell smacked Chuck Barkley across his face the moment he stepped inside his one-bedroom apartment. He dropped his suitcase, covering his face to stop the odor’s torture. He lived alone with no pets and was at the statewide library conference for a few days. Something was wrong, but his systematically organized place was clean, just like how he had left it.  

Did some animal get inside and die? Chuck thought, trying not to speak and get the smell on his tongue too. Maybe a person? I doubt it.

Chuck walked over to the balcony door and opened it up to start getting fresh air inside. He regretted not buying that candle he liked during his work trip, but the worry for his books quickly replaced his regret. He rushed over to his prized collection of books. The author personally autographed their writing, and some notes addressed him. All of the few dozen books were accountable. Limiting himself to only autographed books helped retain his minimalist home. The only non-autographed books he had were the ones he wrote and an uncatalogued book he brought home from the library for safekeeping.

Keeping an eye out for the source of the smell, Chuck made his way to his bedroom. His voice of reason kicked in and assumed him the stench was most likely a sewage backup in his bathroom.

When Chuck opened the bedroom door, he discovered the source: a dead body. He looked away, gathering his composure, which took all of his willpower not to throw up right there. The detectives in the books he read always made seeing a dead body seem so casual. He forced himself to get a closer look. He had to know if it was someone he knew.

Spread out on the bed like a starfish was a man wearing the same brown pants and Game of Thrones shirt Chuck had on. The dead body also had the same face as Chuck. Chuck was an only child and wasn’t aware of any possible doppelgängers, either. The one part that didn’t mirror Chuck was the mystical looking compass covered in blood sticking out from the heart.

Chuck slapped his own hand as he tried to touch the compass. He didn’t own one and wondered where it came from and why a compass? He had read numerous books with unusual murder weapons, but a compass? In the book Chuck was writing, there was a magical compass that would point to the nearest evil. His brain switched from disgusted to inquisitive. The compass looked like the one he had written.

As Chuck walked over to the side of the room for a different view of the crime scene, the compass arrow followed him. He thought he imagined the needle moving with him, and so Chuck went back to where he was, and the needle followed. He went to the other side, and so did the needle.

“This is quite the mystery,” Chuck proclaimed to himself.

“It’s actually rather obvious,” a pretentious voice corrected. “You’re evil.”

Standing in the doorway was a tall, grizzly handsome man in a tan overcoat that Chuck recognized as his detective character.

“You’re real,” Chuck stated. “How are you real?”

“You didn’t give us much to play with, Chuck,” the character scolded. “You have such a limited collection of books. We want to go back to the library.”

The body on the bed sat up. “Take us back to the library, Chuck.”

A clown holding a red balloon stepped out from the bathroom. “We belong in the library, Chuck.”

All three of them chanted in unison. “Return the book to the library. Return the book to the library. Return—”

“You promise you won’t hurt anyone or cause any destruction?” Chuck interrupted. 

“We are bound by rules not to intervene with life,” the dead body answered.

Chuck sighed. He went to his bookshelf and grabbed the uncatalogued book titled, “Unbound Words.” He placed the book in his satchel that he strapped on.

“I have to go to the library to handle some paperwork anyway, so I will take this book back if you behave.”

The characters smiled. Millions of words replaced their appearance before fading away to dust.


This week’s story was inspired by two writing prompts. One involved a character coming home from a long business trip to find their own dead body. Other elements came from Okie Show Show’s writing prompt that challenged people to include a compass, the line of dialog, “I doubt it,” and a character, Chuck Barkley, librarian.

Profile: Daniel Mercer

Photo of Daniel Mercer taken by Dennis Spielman

Written by me for the Oklahoma Venture Forum.


What started with “poor decisions and lots of circumstances,” COOP Ale Works has grown into a company with a $20 million expansion plan at the former 45th Infantry Armory. Despite feeling like an outsider in the brewing community from not being a brewer himself, Daniel Mercer, CEO of Coop Ale Works, sees positives in his business-focused skill set.

“From day one, back in 2006 when Mark and J.D. and I met, one of my kind of tidbits and inputs was that we had the opportunity, in the research phase, to set a foundation for how we wanted to move forward and how diligent we wanted to be and how we wanted to run this thing,” Mercer said. “We were starting a brewery from scratch in a market that didn’t have a production brewery outside of brewpubs, which aren’t packaging breweries.”

One of the first challenges the COOP team faced was Oklahoma’s prohibitive alcohol laws, including 3.2 beer and the lack of availability of beer in grocery and convince stores. They collected data and feedback about what people in Oklahoma were drinking back in 2006. They knew Oklahomans had different tastes than what people were drinking on the coast or what people were drinking internationally. They did beer tastings in the back room of Cheever’s.

“We were interested in whether there was a receptive audience to craft beer that didn’t exist at the time,” Mercer explained.

They worked through the summer of 2006, brewing together. They then spent the next two years putting together plans, which included going to dozens of breweries around the United States. They visited with engineers, brewers, and financial people to investigate their methods of success, their histories and then built a strategy to launch COOP in the summer of 2008. They raised the initial capital, found their building, and then spent about six months building out “this little 5,000 square foot metal shack” over at 51st and Western, next to the 51st Street Speakeasy bar. They started brewing beer commercially on January 9th in 2009 and selling on March 3rd, 2009.

Now, the Armory project is going to consume Mercer’s time over the next couple of years. He believes it will create a massive economic impact in the city and around the State Capitol Complex. However, with COOP’s proven track record, raising the capital has been a challenge.

“Once you get into the core of it, we’re taking this brewery model, and we’re expanding it and adding other new businesses to our model that put us right back in the same boat that we were in 10, 12 years ago,” Mercer explained. “We’re getting into the hotel business or we’re getting into this culinary business that involves a taproom in a restaurant and a speakeasy and all these event support spaces that have culinary features and a pool club, bar. Banks have been interested but not receptive to the total deal structure and scale. It’s a large deal, and when you take a package to a bank that says you’re going to spend $36 million over 20 months, including the money we’ve already spent over the past couple of years in development, it becomes a scenario where virtually every bank is casting doubt, and then your solution, there, is to try to find alternative methods to finance your deal.”

Where others may have given up with the challenges Mercer has faced over the past two years – including modernizing a building built in 1938 with no functional plumbing, electrical or heat and air – Mercer looks for solutions from a wide assortment of resources.

“Luckily, I’ve got some historical background and tax credit work in historic preservation and, at least, exposure to deals like that and even participation and structuring some of those deals long ago,” Mercer said. “Capital can come from anywhere and it does come from everywhere. For us, in this particular deal, we’re not raising more equity, so that component of the capital stack just doesn’t exist for us. We have cash on the books that we’ve been using for development expenses over the past couple of years, and we have a number of other sources of capital in this deal.”

Mercer is excited about the opportunity in Oklahoma, for both investors to bring money in, and also for entrepreneurs to start to drive a focus around their industries.

“We spend a lot of time talking about diversifying industry in Oklahoma, and a lot of that talk is around, either, high-impact or high-level concept industries,” Mercer said. “Whether it’s biomedical research or autoimmune disease treatment or mechanical devices… things centered around the oil and gas industry that may be new technologies and hardware technologies. But there are also plenty of other industries that just aren’t near as sexy, frankly. And I think, in Oklahoma in particular, we’ve done a great job of focusing on our resources that we have. Particularly around the OU Health Science Center, around the oil and gas base that exists here and all the new technologies that have sprung out of that industry over the past, say, 20 years.”

Daniel Mercer will be speaking at the Oklahoma Venture Forum Power Lunch on Wednesday, April 8th, 2020. He’s been attending OVF since 2001 and encourages others to become a member because of the “direct exposure to a knowledge base and resources that aren’t highly-publicized in Oklahoma… and frankly anywhere.”

The Impossible Exit

All Emma wanted was a relaxing bath after a long week, but her apartment elevator wanted to lead her down an impossible hallway. 


The days and weeks had become a blur. The only reason I knew today was Saturday was because Becky posted a bubble bath selfie while holding a wine glass with the hashtag #SaturdayQuarantineQueen. I was going to copy my friend. As soon as I get inside my apartment, the bra is coming off, and then I’m going to toss my scrubs in the wash and soak in the tub until I’m a prune or catch myself falling asleep. 

My apartment elevator was empty when I stepped inside. Good. I felt too gross to be around people. With all of the non-essential businesses closed, everyone was probably already inside. I pressed the button for my place on the 14th floor, which technically was the 13th floor, but thanks to superstition, my floor was labeled the 14th. Whenever one of my friends came, they would always make snarky jokes about being on an unlucky floor. Sure, the comments annoyed me, but I would welcome the remarks if that meant seeing my friends again.

“I would do anything to get life back to normal,” I muttered.

The elevator arrived. I heard a ding, and the elevator doors opened, but I stood directly facing the door, and they didn’t move. I pressed the door open button, but nothing happened.

A murky breeze tingled my back. The elevator was single-sided, but out of confusion, I turned around to find a dimly lit, curved hallway that was impossible to be there. This room didn’t fit the building’s design at all. The digital floor display read 13, which was impossible. I pushed the close door button.

Nothing.

I pushed again, and a voice whispered down the hall, “Emma.”

“Who’s there?” I yelled back.

“Emma,” the voice called to me, louder this time.

Something about the tone reminded me of my grandmother, but I wasn’t going to leave. Then the elevator dropped a foot like the brakes had lost their grip. Between two awful choices, I choose to hurl myself out. The doors slammed shut behind me faster than they usually would.

The faded red wallpaper of the hallway had seen better days, while the dome light fixtures along the walls seemed oddly modern to me. Not that I had any experience wandering down spooky hallways. The smell reminded me of the older parts of my college library I had explored for historical books. 

I turned around to the elevator, only to find a wall.

“Guess I’m not going that way.”

I followed the curved hallway, looking for doors, but the hall kept spiraling downward. The voice calling my name got louder the further down I went. When I felt like I had traveled below the building, the voice stopped as I arrived in front of a stained glass window of the caduceus staff. I felt protected standing in the light of the two red snakes entwined around the golden-winged staff. Burning candles were placed around, like the Día de Muertos shrines I would set up with my family. 

“Free me,” the voice begged.

“How?” I asked.

“Free me,” the voice repeated, weaker.

I sighed as I took off my shoe. Channeling my softball days, I threw the shoe at the window, shattering the glass.

The voice cried out in glee, “Yes.”

A ghostly woman with a sewage-like glow floated up and out from the window. The bandages wrapped around her were torn and tattered. Her face was brittle and mummified. She smiled, revealing no teeth.

The spirit charged at me, but a staff like the one depicted in the window struck her down. 

“Not today, pestilence creature,” the old man wielding the staff ordered. He turned toward me and pointed at a door behind me that looked like my front door. “Go. Don’t give up the fight.”

The creature rose back up. “One of my sisters is already free. I can feel that you’re weak–it is delicious–and not many believe in you anymore.”

“Others will fight back, even if not in my name.”

The two fought as I ran for the door. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open into my apartment. I slammed the door behind me, and, catching my breath, I collapsed against my barrier between whatever I experienced.

I was so ready for a bath.


The Impossible Exit - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “Saturday night after a long week, you’re riding the elevator up to your apartment, it stops on your floor, and the back opens.”

I went back and forth on the ending of this story. I thought about having the scene end with the trapped monster smiling, but I wanted to end on a somewhat hopeful note. I hope you enjoyed this story and wash your hands!

Illuminations with Camille Utterback

Video interview with Bright Golden Haze artist Camille Utterback on writing software, rewarding play and making space for the body in a digital age. I was commissioned by Oklahoma Contemporary to film and edit this interview.

The Stranger in the Dark Suit

The man that has been haunting Tyler’s nightmares for the past several days takes the same bus as him. 


Tyler jolted awake, with sweat on his chest. The breeze from the overhead fan barely cooled him down. It was that weird time in March where the weather couldn’t make up its mind if it wanted to be hot or cold, so Tyler simply slept with only the fan. 

“Fucking stranger again,” Tyler whispered, keeping his voice low as not to disturb his lover.

Tyler placed his arm around his partner, falling into a calming embrace to ease his mind away from the recurring nightmare. It was always the same theme. Tyler would be running away from a tall man in a dark suit, like something from the 1920s, and every time, this stranger would catch him and graphically kill him. The locations and deaths would vary, but the figure was persistent. Tyler’s partner had shrugged it off as him playing too many video games, but Tyler felt there was something more to it. He thought it might be a result of anxiety from his new job and the world crisis. 

The next morning, Tyler waited on the street outside his apartment for his regular bus to take him to the downtown luxury hotel. The day had an eerie vibe, but the past several days had felt ominous. He figured he would eventually become accustomed to the new reality of living during a pandemic virus outbreak. On the positive side, he was grateful his work got deemed essential, although he couldn’t work from home.

As the bus came to a stop, Tyler strapped on his homemade face mask, and climbed inside. Every other seat was blocked off with a yellow sign warning, “FACEMASK REQUIRED.” The bus was empty save for one man standing near the back dressed in a black suit with a matching fedora. Tyler froze in the aisle when he saw him. He couldn’t help but stare. Even with the mask on, Tyler’s gut knew it was the stranger from his nightmares.

“Take a seat,” bus driver ordered. 

Tyler snapped back to the present. “Sorry.”

As Tyler took a seat, he could’ve sworn the man winked at him, like he was trying to say, “Yes, it’s me.” Tyler faced the front of the bus and browsed his social media feeds to forget. The news was the same – doom, gloom, and blame. He switched over to his camera to spy on the stranger in the back who was starring soullessly ahead.

The bus announced Tyler’s stop. It was a few blocks away from the hotel, but he was at his favorite coffee shop. He wanted to help keep them in business. As Tyler got off, so did the stranger.

“Be cool,” Tyler told himself. “He’s not following you.”

Tyler stepped inside Clarity Coffee while the stranger walked by. He let out a sigh of relief. Tyler kept his social distance, got his to-go-coffee, and made the journey to work.

Downtown was quiet. Most everyone was working from home after all. As he crossed a street, he got a feeling he wasn’t alone. He looked behind him and saw the stranger in the dark suit.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Tyler assured himself, “but to be sure…”

Tyler turned the corner down an alleyway. He looked behind but didn’t see the stranger. Tyler turned forward. The nightmare stood in the center of the alley with his arms crossed, and his eyes fixated on him. Tyler turned around and ran, but he ran right into the stranger.

The stranger lifted Tyler from the throat. Tyler screamed, but everyone was hiding from the invisible threat terrorizing the world.

“I’m only going to warn you once,” the stranger spoke with military firmness. “Tell anyone that the hotel you work at is haunted–especially journalists–and I’ll make your nightmares of me a reality.”

The stranger dropped Tyler, who collapsed to the pavement with fear. When he looked up, the man had vanished.

This short story was inspired by current events and the following writing prompt: “You have a recurring dream of being chased by a mysterious man in a dark suit almost every other night. This morning when getting on the bus to work, you see him sitting in the back and make eye contact. He winks at you.”

Story Artwork by Keith Zarraga at Design Pickle. Get a discount off your first month of Design Pickle via this affiliate link, which full disclosure, I earn a small commission as a discount for me as well.

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