A Savage Solitude: The Geography of Shame
In Part 2, Mark leaves camp early and learns what it's like to be tracked.
Life provides its own bit of entertainment, and I try to capture the conflict and joy that arise from what we experience every day. My stories offer a brief respite from this crazy life, and I hope you enjoy them. There’s something new every Friday.
Pull up a spot. Subscribers receive special access to exclusive content, including new stories, a guide to the “Space Between” the novels, soundtracks, and more...
The Piano Man Chronicles is a two-year anthology project. Every two weeks, you’ll see a story surrounding the fictional novel PIANO MAN (You can read about PIANO MAN below the story). Some stories are small three-part serials. Others will be from guest authors.
Part 2
By Vince Wetzel
It was still dark when Mark woke. His first night on the Pacific Crest Trail was cool, but his sleeping bag made the night comfortable. His goal was to pack up and leave in the early light of dawn and be quiet enough not to disturb Carl.
Mark had met Carl at the beginning of his three-day journey. He was pleasant enough, and eased his solo adventure into the wilderness. But the more stories Carl shared of his two months on the PCT, the more uneasy Mark became. Carl had even rummaged through Mark’s pack and stolen his Hostess cupcake.
As he pulled on his pack and started down the trail again, Mark reconsidered staying around, saying a proper goodbye, and moving along. Leaving this early could be considered rude, and really, what had Carl done? Sure, he ate his cupcake. Yes, some of the stories Carl shared made Mark uncomfortable. And, finally, Mark didn’t appreciate Carl sharing that he’d kill a bear and make a blanket the two of them could snuggle under. But was that just in Mark’s mind? Had he misunderstood Carl?
Mark decided it was best to move on. He’d leave a short note and his last can of soup, thanking him for the company, but that he was moving on. Leave and chalk it up to a good story to tell his friends and family when he returned to civilization. Who knows? Maybe, he’d write a book someday, and Carl could be an eccentric character to add flavor to the story. Mark looked back at Carl’s tattered tent and gave a slight wave before turning back to the trail.
Mark marveled at the beauty of dawn on the trail. He didn’t miss his morning coffee. The energy provided by that initial warmth of the sun on a summer morning was all the go-go juice he needed to move through the day.
He paused for a moment to take stock of his life. He had been married to his wife, Laura, for nearly twenty-five years. Two of his children, Lane (23), and Joe (22), were employed, while his daughter Chrissy (21) was heading into her final year of college. He’d done it. He and Laura had raised three lovely kids without too much drama. They were on their way to retiring on time with enough savings to live out the rest of their lives in comfort. They were set.
So, why was he lost? Lately, he had taken to wandering around the house and looking for small projects to do, not because they needed to be done, but because it occupied time previously committed to his children’s games, performances, and taxi service. And time with Laura now included which Netflix show to watch that night. He tried reading, and he grew bored. He took yoga, which was nice, but he still felt like he was going through the motions rather than having a passion. He hoped that being outdoors would bring him clarity. So far, it was a great day, but was it life-changing? Not yet.
At noon, he came to a cliffside with a large rock face rising high above the trail. He worked himself up the rock face to where he thought he could rest, eat lunch, and pull out his Kindle to read Piano Man. His wife had a physical copy and was reading it in a cabin in Truckee, where he would end up after this hike.
He pulled out his sandwich and bit into the peanut butter and jelly. After hastily packing his pack, he found the sandwich squished, but it provided the same sustenance. As he read more of the book, the warmth of the day on the rocks and the early morning, he decided to lie against a tree and catch up on sleep.
As he drifted off, he dreamt about Lane’s sixth birthday party, when they had hired a children’s musician to play a few songs. But it wasn’t the young keyboardist who was barely in his 20s, and who refused a congratulatory beer. It was Carl, bellowing inappropriate songs about hunting bears. The children ran off disturbed, and Mark was left having to deal with the trauma they’d endured.
“Mark?” he heard Carl yell. “Where are you, Mark?”
Mark’s eyes shot open, immediately into his conscious self. This wasn’t a dream. It was a warm day, but he felt the chills on his arm.
“Mark? Why did you leave without saying goodbye? I thought we were friends.”
Mark couldn’t tell how far away Carl was, but he was thankful that he had left the trail to come this far up the rock face. He turned and stood straight against the tree. He didn’t want Carl to find him up here. That would be too embarrassing, that Mark had ditched Carl and was now hiding from him. He felt shame and remembered a time in high school when he befriended a classmate in a wheelchair, only to ignore her when he saw her at the county fair, even as she waved to him.
Don’t let him see me, Mark thought. Just keep moving.
“Are you mad about me stealing your cupcake?” Carl yelled. “I think that’s a pretty poor reason to leave your friend behind.”
Mark agreed. It was a pretty asshole excuse to leave. But it wasn’t just that. Mark’s gut told him that Carl was bad news and that leaving was the best course. And Mark’s trail stalking had confirmed that gut instinct.
It was more than the cupcake, you psycho. You wanted to kill a bear to make a blanket for the two of us.
Mark looked down the hill and the trail about 100 yards. In the distance, he saw Carl walking, his eyes darting around. With all of the switchbacks, he might get to the spot on the trail where his footsteps ended on the dirt. Would that lead Carl to look up to this tree, to Mark? What would happen then?
“I thought you were different, Mark. Turns out, you’re like all of the others I’ve met on the PCT. They all want an acquaintance, but nobody wants a companion.”
And what happened to them? Mark wanted to know.
He looked around the rock for a better hiding place than a singular tree. He saw a clump of three pines growing out of the granite with bushes sitting in front. Mark picked up his pack and scurried to his new hideout, hoping he could let him pass without disturbance. Unfortunately, letting Carl pass him would mean Mark could no longer move at his own pace, which might mean he wouldn’t be at the rendezvous point when Laura was expected to meet up with him.
Carl was now fifty yards away. Yesterday’s look of amusement and friendliness turned to a relentless focus on the trail and its surroundings. Mark squatted further, with only the top of his head above the shrubs. He found his heart beating and his breath labored.
Why am I so scared of this guy? Mark asked himself. This is silly. He’s a little strange, but is he dangerous? I should go down, apologize, explain that I need some solitary time, and let him move on. He’d understand.
“Mark?” Carl was near the spot where Mark started up the granite face. If there were footprints, Carl would soon see them stop and look upward. “Mark, I thought we were friends. Turns out you’re an asshole like everyone else. You remember that jackass Todd, I told you about? You’re a lot like him. He ditched me, too. That is, until I caught up to him. I guess I should thank him. After all, I have his tent and his pack.”
Mark’s eyes went wide. If Carl had Todd’s gear, where was Todd? At that moment, Carl looked up toward the bushes where Mark was hiding. Mark didn’t dare breathe. Carl smiled, more sinister than anything Mark had ever seen. Mark was sure Carl had spotted him.
But like that, Carl turned and continued down the path.
“Mark, I’m going to catch up with you eventually. You know that, right? And when I do, you have some ‘splaining to do. Hahaha. Remember that from the old I Love Lucy show. I think Desi Arnaz would say that. I used to watch that as a kid when my dad would leave me home to go to work. I watched that and F Troop, Leave it to Beaver, and Gilligan’s Island. It was all I could watch until Dad came home and unlocked the basement. You know, when you spend that much time alone, you get comfortable by yourself, but you can’t help but love the time you get to meet good people. But then again, people like you always disappoint me. Like you, Mark. You disappoint me. And I can’t wait to tell you when I see you next.”
Carl’s voice trailed off as he rounded the next bend. Mark didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t get out of these hills soon enough. But how could he move, now that he was behind Carl? He couldn’t chance meeting him on the trail. He could end up like Todd, whatever his fate.
Mark waited another hour, then slowly moved onto the trail. With each step Mark took, he looked ahead as far as he could for any sign of Carl. Satisfied, he continued walking until dusk. He looked at his map and compass and figured he was about three miles off his targeted destination. He’d stay here tonight, then stay behind Carl until Truckee. As soon as he had cell service, he’d call Laura and have her pick him up as close to the first road as possible
Mark didn’t think to build a fire, to give Carl any smoke or far-off light to double back and find him. Instead, he sat outside his tent and ate the rest of his protein bars. In the distance, he thought he saw a campfire. It was Carl, not only because of who else was on the PCT, but also because of his wails at the top of his lungs.
“Mark. Where are you, Mark!”
Read the Conclusion July 31…
About The Piano Man Chronicles
Piano Man, written by the fictional author Thomas Eberle, is a creative spark that connects a wide variety of stories, like a quiet ripple. I am writing three‑part arcs that introduce new people, new places, and new turning points, but the shared thread is how this one book nudges something in each of them.
Some characters read it.
Some argue with it.
Some only know it because someone they love won’t stop talking about it.
But for all of them, The Piano Man becomes a spark — a moment of reflection, change, or connection.
Guest authors, such as Sandolore Sykes JC Wesslen and Andrew Robert Colom are contributing their own takes on the story, creating a wide world of literary interconnection. This project is meant to feel like wandering through a neighborhood at dusk, catching glimpses of lives in motion. You’re not following one plot; you’re following the echo of a story inside a story, watching how art lands differently in every life it touches.
The Birthday Party Underground
When washed-up rocker Cole takes a pity gig at his nephew’s birthday party, he expects juice boxes, tantrums, and the slow death of his dignity. What he doesn’t expect is applause, cash, and a new career path—one paved with glitter, chaos, and the occasional piñata-related injury.
Welcome to the children’s party circuit, where the princesses aren’t Disney-approved, the clowns have criminal records, and the magicians might be dabbling in more than sleight of hand. As Cole dives deeper into this surreal subculture, he finds himself entangled in illicit rendezvous with moms (divorced, married, and morally flexible), navigating the drug-laced underbelly of suburban affluence, and dodging emotional landmines disguised as balloon animals.
But beneath the costumes and confetti lies a question Sam can’t escape: Is this his second act or just another detour on the road to self-destruction?
Eberle’s Piano Man is a tragicomic romp through the absurdity of reinvention, where the music never stops, but the consequences keep piling up. Sharp, irreverent, and unexpectedly tender, it’s a backstage pass to the party you never knew you wanted to crash.
“A rock ballad wrapped in confetti and regret. Eberle’s prose is as sharp as a broken guitar string.”
— Javier Stone, author of The Last Encore
“Thomas Eberle has written the most unwholesome children’s party novel imaginable—and I mean that as high praise.”
— Mira Caldwell, author of Suburban Gothic
“A hilarious, heartbreaking descent into the party circuit’s glittery underworld. Think Almost Famous meets Bad Moms with a dash of Hunter S. Thompson.”
— The Sacramento Tribune
Why Subscribe?
I invite you to join our community and go deeper into the narrative. Subscribers receive special access to exclusive content, including:
Free ePUB of Space Between: The anthology of stories bridging novels
New Stories: Bi-Weekly fiction bridging the gap between my novels.
The “Space Between” Guide: An insider’s roadmap to my interconnected universe.
Soundtracks & More: Curated playlists and behind-the-scenes updates.
If you become a paid subscriber, you get those benefits plus a signed copy of either Friends In Low Places or Lose Yourself, plus a copy of the newly released anthology Space Between.
Thank you for joining me. I look forward to meeting you every Friday in the space between.