The Vault

The writings of the late author, John Scipio were recently discovered in a vault in an apartment in the suburbs. The vault contained a set of stairs, that led to an upstairs room, the room contained a desk, writing utensils, a laptop, and a computer. The room had a beautiful view of the community in which he quietly lived. The writings consisted of poetry, manuscripts, and several unfinished projects.

His short work, 'The Opera' has since been turned into a comic opera and has become required reading for all Music Theatre majors.

The movie rights to his other short story '52' were purchased by a major motion picture studio.

John lived a quiet life, he loved the spoken word and went to many poetry readings. He loved writing as a way to express himself and to be artistic. He came unto manuscript writing after some constructive criticism and some coaching from within an endeared writing group. When he realized that he could describe a person using words and become their dialogue, it changed his whole life.

Writing became his heart, it became the blood that oozed from old wounds. Words became the tears that he needed to shed, the pain that he needed to embrace, and the sadness he needed to bear.

This sensitivity he kept hidden from his peers, and even his closest friends, but that sensitivity fueled the works of which I take this time to write about on this beautifully quiet Saturday afternoon.

Many of his works are just now being discovered and catalogued. In time, the world will have access to the works of one of the most unsung heroes of modern literature.

The purists scoffed at the newfound works of this, whom I believe, to be one the 21st centuries most prolific writers. As they read and begin to study his works and absorb the dialogue of his characters, they will see what I see, true brilliance.

The characters breath and move to the beat of their own mental drummer. The lovers of the written word will ask the questions that help peer deep into the heart of the characters he blessed us with.

John's life is still an intricate puzzle that needs to be put in place. The newly created John Scipio Literary Society, affectionately known as the John S. Society is slowly and meticulously putting together his life legacy, and body of works.

There have many been debates about his work 'Okay', and about what the extraterrestrial says to Mackenzie as she is having sexual relations with him. He left no code to decipher the words. Readers are baffled at what the language is or even if it exists. Some wondered and asked if he himself was an extraterrestrial.

Some said he was a kind person and would help you in any way he could especially if it had anything to do with the writing. It is said that when you spoke of the craft of writing, his eyes would light up, and he'd talk with you for hours.

Others spoke of his writing as mere whim, that he suffered from a lack of realism, and that none of that of which he wrote could ever happen in real life. A critic wrote in a recent article that John Scipio's work was trash and that he needed to leave the business of writing to the professionals. That same critic was caught breaking into the John Scipio Literary Society trying to steal one of the manuscripts.

The villanelle 'Rusted Tower' became a rural favorite. Many lovestruck teenagers and even some adults were arrested trying to climb a tower and relive the moments within the poem's verses. Those who achieved the goal, would hold hands and read the poem together. This act of fealty, always seemed to be popular on rainy days in Summer and Spring, anniversaries, and especially on Valentine's Day. Local police had to start placing fenced barriers around the stairwells and ladders of these towers and put locks on them in order to keep them away, but these actions never could deter the diehard romantics, they always found a way.

His fiercest critics often attacked his masculinity and his sexuality. Many claimed that there is no record of him ever having a relationship with a female. There were many debates around this. But at his gravesite, every summer, a small wooden table containing these items, one rose, two filled teacups, honey, lemon, five small lit candles a jazz CD, a scented pair of silk leopard skin panties, and lock of a woman's braided hair, are always laid at his grave site...every summer.

This summer, along with the regular items, there was a picture of a nude woman seated at his writing table in the upstairs room. The top part of the picture was cut near the woman's shoulders, making it difficult to identify her. Try as they may, the creator of that small alter, or the person in the photograph, have yet to be discovered.

The cult of John S. is slowly rising. People are reading his poems out loud at pubs and coffee shops in and around his city. Last night, laughter filled the air at the Neural Coffee Shop/Vegan Cafe as a patron read John Scipio's poem, 'Clown' as a live band played behind them. To the shock of the one reading the poem and to the patrons, a clown troupe appeared and acted out the words of the poem. One man fell out of his seat from laughing so hard, a woman laughed herself to tears.

As I was walking through Manhattan the other day, I heard three people and a police officer reciting the haiku, 'New York Hot Dog' in unison. After reciting the haiku, they all bowed to each other and then they all took a bite of their hotdogs at the same time. I looked over at the hotdog vendor, then he looked at me.

"They come to my stand, and they do this all the time," the vendor said, shaking his head, then shrugging his shoulders. "The funny thing about it is, this," the vendor continued. 'I've been gettin' more customers and some very large tips."

What more will be said about this author? What questions will be asked and or answered? In the pursuit of knowledge about this individual, there will be many positives and negatives stated about him. There will be many theories and controversies unearthed in the pursuit if this creative soul. Some of what is said will last for years and most of it will be debunked as more gems are uncovered in the life of a true writer and kindred spirit.

A DVD has been discovered of the author and an unknown woman making out on a sofa in the vault. Bruce Springsteen's 'Prove It All Night' is playing in the background. The woman's face and body are blurred, but the writer, John Scipio, can be seen plainly. On a coffee table there are two teacups filled with tea and several lit candles.

Women are fascinated by the romantic mystery that surrounds this author.

"I get so hot just thinking about him upstairs in that vault room with that mystery woman." I overheard a woman say at a downtown coffee shop. "It sounds so sexy, so sneaky, I'm so turned on."

I also hear some men at another table saying it's fake and that they have written it off as another publicity stunt to get another dead writer known and make a few bucks off of his corpse. But as of this writing, the DVD has been authenticated and is now part of John Scipio history.

Who makes a DVD of a make-out session, and why? many critics asked. That question can only be answered by the two people starring in it and one of them is no longer living, and the other, well, who knows.

This writer finds it all fascinating. The discovery, the finding out, and the knowing is all intriguing to me. As more is uncovered, more shall be read. And I will be one of the many who will enjoy reading and discovering this writer's work.

Kosho Nei Luanne Phillips: Freelance Writer