A lone tower of stone broke through the tops of the pines, piercing the sky like a syringe. Its stone was uniformly gray and there was no sign of its ever having been a part of another structure.
As we approached, we all saw another building in the distance, through the last stand of trees, at the bottom of the rusty needle strewn forest floor that sloped almost imperceptibly. It was a mansion, sprawling, with fairy-tale, Châteauesque architecture.
A field opened to one side of the house. A stage was set up at one end of the pasture, with a local bar band tiredly rehearsing their worn repertoire of classic rock and AM gold to a small but disinterested crowd of onlookers.