Filbrick Pines Novels & Stories

She nodded and put the cigarette back. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just lucky I guess?" "Yeah, lucky you are not crazy, yet. Anyway, the club is Dawson, turn on Whispering Pines, you can’t miss it. You know the big dumpy place down from the church? It kind of looks like a gothic hangover if a goth and a heavy metal nut case had a baby. " "I know the place, well I have seen it before and I am not sure that I am not crazy, Oshey."

It was charming, almost cinematic, and it made me ache a little for a life that simple, that rooted. Inside, The Silver Pine was dim and warm, the air thick with the scent of cedar and tobacco. The walls were lined with old photos and trophies — horse races, state fairs, musicians who’d played here decades ago. A long polished bar stretched across one side, the other filled with small wooden tables.