Today's Messages (off)
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Forum: Literary Merit
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Topic: DON'T LOOK FOR ME
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Jackboy
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Toe is in the water |
Location: North UK
Registered: August 2016
Messages: 69
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DON'T LOOK FOR ME.
CHORUS.
Don't look for me when the day draws to a close,
And thoughts arise of peaceful repose.
For I have gone to that place of shadows and dreams,
Where nothing is really as it seems.
VERSE 1.
It isn't all that bad you know, and the pains no longer with me.
For time can heal the worst of scars, from all things I am free.
I only miss the feel of you, the smile of your sweet face;
the wind that blows your lovely hair, your caring warm embrace.
VERSE 2.
I see you wake upon the morn, your angelic smile anew,
You look outside your window there, and see the morning dew.
I wonder if you think of me, amongst your early thought,
So many of our lovers' plans have only come to nought.
VERSE 3.
It's oh so cold for me now in this dark and lonely place,
And I feel sorry for you there, trapped in the old rat race.
I want to hold you tight and say it's alright now,
But all that's over now, will we ever meet somehow?
CHORUS.
Don't look for me when the day draws to a close,
And thoughts arise of peaceful repose.
For I have gone to that place of shadows and dreams,
Where nothing is really as it seems.
By Jack D. H. For...
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Topic: Billie Joe Walker Jr
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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For our 20th anniversary Rick Beck asked me to publish his own 20th anniversary story, a tale about Billie Joe. This tale is improbably hard to read. I have all three books scheduled to run sequentially. I believe this is the type of tale to get folk thinking.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Black and White Boys
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Because it's the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-laaa and all that stuff, and because folk are likey to have a bit of time om their hands, I have preannounced the next writing challenge early.
Black and White Boys is, quietly, starting to roll. I have one expression of interest already, and from a new author to the site
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Christmas is creeping up at a rate of knots
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I have just worked out the Christmas publishing schedule as follows. This snapshot is tonight, Thursday 15 December:
So, Friday has set 1, Monday has set 2. Set 3 is the Christmas set. That's not complete, I'm drumming my fingers waiting for the extra tales to arrive, but it goes out on Wednesday 21 December. That then stays on the homepage until 26th, when the next set goes out.
I know a couple of you are waiting on tenterhooks for your tale to hit the head of the queue. William King and Geron Kees, this shows the accurate point at which your tales will start. Michael Stevens, The Cabin's date is there, too
After the Christmas period we have Close The Lid. I need to make a judgement about how long to leave it on the home page, too.
Evan Carlton, if the story I have been promised just before yours does not arrive soon I will start your new tale a set earlier. It's in set 7 right now
And you guys think this is easy to put together!! Even with a great piece of software I can still get in a mess!
[Updated on: Thu, 15 December 2016 23:50]
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Victor Thomas
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Noticeable in Victor's writing is that he has, so far, only made submissions to Writing Challenges, and that he is writing to a continued theme.
I think that's interesting. It's as if he has set himself a dual challenge.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Knots, by Elias Scott
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Just over a year ago, Elias and I chose to start to publish Knots here. I met it on Nifty and was interested in its portrayal of protagonists that I failed to like easily, in a plot that shows them make many miss-steps, and by no means all with 'lived happily ever after' endings. Elias does not write a fairy tale.
What he does write is a true love story, warts 'n all.
There are, currently, five books, all of which can be found from his index page and a sixth is in gestation.
The writing is easy to read, draws you in, and takes you past what I found to be my increasing dislike of the main protagonists because I knew them well enough to want to know what happens next. And there are very likeable characters along the way. There is a movie here, though it could not be made with the age group that is required because of morality and prurience. Perhaps it could be made in Denmark, but certainly not in the USA
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Michael by Jobe
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ivor slipper
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Likes it here |
Registered: September 2013
Messages: 128
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I'd like to publicly express my appreciation to Jobe for this intriguing and slightly supernatural story.
In some ways it is rather like the parable of 'The Loaves and The Fishes' although here the loaves are replaced with milk!
It is especially good as Jobe's first language isn't English, although that is hard to tell.
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Topic: Three Strikes and I'm out by Ivor Slipper
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solsticeman
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Likes it here |
Registered: November 2012
Messages: 109
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This is an excellent story that catches the spirit of the young boys, and the silly things they will do to win.
Just as much to the point it caused me to visit Ivor Slipper's story page. This is an author that deserves attention. His "The Pick of the Bunch" is poignant and beautiful... one of the most wonderful pieces I have read in a long time.
Go read him, read him again as the case may be. You can thank me later.
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Topic: Some stories create a world
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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AB is good at worlds. He does suspense and pitched battles well, too.
I'm not a Star Wars fan, though I find the films amusing, but, with Starwars: Darklight, he has made me think again. Does it offend true Star Wars fans? I have no idea, but it's a darned good read.
I'm deeply in to The Chronicles of Valana as well. For those you need to go to his index page.
Add to this that AB has another language as his mother tongue, and you may start to understand why his skill impresses me hugely.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: coming out poem by Josh
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New poem. I like this one. And I hope you do too..
We just want to be loved... That's all we've ever wanted...
~~~~~~
coming out_1
Written by: J
Date: August 22, 2016
Time: 5:26 PM
thank you.. take care..
~J
~~~~~
coming out_1
~~~~~
peace will rain down.
ashes will rebuild the world from ruin to majesty.
Perhaps then, you too will be free.
Capture the essence of the human you've crafted for so long.
Graft it to your skin, so you can feel the other. The one who gave you that heart to breathe, and the oxygen from within your veins.
Someday you too, will wander in obscurity and pain. You'll be trapped in a darkness that captures and throws you into a slow dark death.
Even so, I would wish that though you condemn us so freely with those precious Bibles in your hand, you will realize that we are just like you.
We've walked in your shoes..
We are the gays and lesbians of the day. Too afraid to shout it out loud for your heart to hear.
And even though you have a broad face and such a perfect figure, you will one day have a daughter or son of your own.
And you will feel very proud when they walk hand in hand with their lovers, wives and husbands.
And you will learn that there is more to life then just being the Straight.
There is so much more, to experience and learn about... Open your hearts. Take it all in. Every drop of sweat and pain and horror, torture and hatred.
And we will gladly swim in the nile of your deaths and disease.
Because all we ever wanted, was an It's Okay.. You don't have to be AFRAID..
Because we are.
More then you can possibly ever know...
As much as you hate and despise us, we love you.
With our hearts open, waiting for your acceptance..
We have one life on this earth, some of us.
So live it with the power that you have inside.
And be free little birds.
Fly away, into the happiness that awaits...
~End~
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Topic: Brian goes to college, by Nick Brady
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Being the latest installment of Life with Marco, Marty and their boys is shaping up as another fine read. However, one issue for Timmy is that chapters 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 are showing 'read more stories by this author' on the right, rather than the 'next chapter' one.
My laptop and firefox gets its bottom spanked, ruddy thing is caching everything. Looks ok in Chrome, which I don't like but have for check compatibility on the websites I maintain.
One I think for Nick is in the first paragraph of chapter 9, Brian is said to be 1 not 18... And another in chapter 13:
"Well, it is much like here in Tulsa," Gunder told him, "We are a very modern country. The weather is cooler there and we have very long summer nights and short nights in the winter." It should of course be short days in the winter.
Minor things though, saga is worth a read from the start - which is why I'd not reported these things earlier.
Bits added as my laptop is an idiot. Goes off to put it through the mangle...
Gave it a good spanking, it'll not do that again - ever - I've attacked about:config.
[Updated on: Mon, 08 August 2016 16:08] |
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Topic: The Dream...
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The Dream...
I touch your skin and it warms my heart,
I caress your lips and see them part.
I hear your laugh and my knees go weak,
You hold me tight and I just listen to you speak.
I watch you sleep and feel you there,
You gave me your all but I was happy to share.
I woke with a smile but it soon changed to tears,
When I realise my deepest and greatest desires and fears.
No one was there and reality came into the light,
I tried to convince myself to continue the fight.
But I cowered in the corner clutching my chest,
Is this what I have to look forward to, was this really the best?
The days pass by me feeling empty and cold,
I don't even cry anymore at the stories they told.
The sun is high, bright in the blue sky,
And every so often a tear still escapes my eye.
When I remember the feelings I had that night,
I still have to clutch at my chest and hide out of sight.
I cry alone in the dark it's better that way,
There is obviously still a Piper to Pay.
Forlorn in the dark I hold onto that dream,
The sun, the field, the flowers the stream.
The light on your face and the smell on the air,
It's still more than I would ever dare.
Written by: M.K. Dobison
"And so the lion fell in love with the Lamb"
"What a stupid Lamb"
"What a sick, masochistic lion"
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Topic: Losing Light...
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Losing Light...
Another lost chance to find the light,
And I'm trying hard with all my might,
Not to lose my mind and all control,
A broken heart and torn soul.
I should've spoken my mind if I'd only known how,
I could've made it right but that's all in hindsight now.
I would've give you my heart and asked for nothing in return,
And no all I have is nights when I watch my heart burn.
Just to hold you and feel you and know you were there,
To see you and hear you and let you know that I'd care.
I'd never have asked for more than you had,
I'd have cradled your head when you were sad,
I'd have weathered the storms the good with the bad,
I'd have walked in your shadow and I would've been glad,
Just to have you around me near me and with me,
That I'd walk The Mile if I knew it was you I'd see,
Waiting and smiling and looking my way,
I'd walk that Mile and 'I Love You' I'd say.
I was desperate and distant and by hope I was blinded,
And my want was too selfish and one sided, divided.
The fact is I'm broken, I'm torn, I'm falling apart,
The walls are high around this guarded heart.
I wanted you here but wouldn't let you in,
Scared and lonely I hide behind the Joker's grin.
A broken heart and torn soul,
Trying Not to lose my mind and all control.
And I'm trying hard with all my might,
Yet another lost chance to find my light.
Written by: M.K. Dobison
"And so the lion fell in love with the Lamb"
"What a stupid Lamb"
"What a sick, masochistic lion"
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Topic: A Matter of Perspective
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Odd that no-one has started a thread on A Matter of Perspective so far. The tale was appealing yet hard to format, and the topic is presented in an unusual manner.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Just after announcements
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Topic: Silent Fields
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Topic: The Christmas 2015 stories are here
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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And you can find them here.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Nick's Story
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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We're well into Nick's Story now, well enough in for us to wonder how it will end.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: I am not partisan
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I simply cannot make a thread for every new tale, however much I want to. I do look forward to reading what other folk are reading. There is so much excellent material coming here nowadays.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Special story sets for seasonal things
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I am already building sets for Halloween and for Christmas. Yes, we plan ahead!
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Another new author
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Actually, it need not be me who brings them here. There's at least one other in the recent past!
Larkin has a different view on life. We have 5 or so of his short stories coming our way and I hope for more.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Knowing when it does not work
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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There are several tales, and I am not going to comment on whether some are even published here or not, where the author fails to know when the end of the story has come, and maunders on for many more chapters, the plot having vanished a long time ago. Often, they started out brilliant and the meteor burned out a long while ago.
How do we even tell them that enough is enough?
Other tales are emperor's new clothes. I suppose the folk who rave over them enjoy raving, but the writing style is often so poor that the rate high on the barfometer. One such is written in Little House on the Prairie stayle. I half expcet it to star Michael Landon, it's so wooden. It is raved over as being so true to life (not a chance), and so wonderful. But it isn't. It could be, but it isn't, not without a total rewrite. No plot, no suspense, no development.
How do we tell the author that it doesn't work?
The answer is that, in neither case do we do so. We just stop reading, or we carry on knowing the warts.
The problem is that these tales have such promise. They just fail to deliver. I think that's what pisses me off!
[Updated on: Thu, 30 April 2015 22:27]
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Minky's World
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I was reminded of Minky's World by a reader today. It is a gentle irony that he thought we ought to ask Paul Schroder if we could publish it.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Site snapshot
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Topic: The Airing Cupboard
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Now don't tell me you have never read The Airing Cupboard, a story I was reminded of while checking the site stats just now, and re-read and enjoyed a lot. Daniel Self has a gentle style, and his other tales ain't half bad, either.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: TEFL
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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This one, Time Enough For Love, took me by surprise. The premise, the photo, that is a great start. It's dark at times, joyous at times. AZ Story Guy says he only has this story in him. I doubt that very much.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: I commend Jobe to you
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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So far we have short stories. Soon a serial. Take a look. Offer him some thanks by email. These takes are well within the ethos of the site, and have a gentle touch about them.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: The Garden God, by Forrest Reid
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I have found, and am reading, this tale. It is available online. It seems to have been scanned in, so there are some scanning errors. It was written in 1905 by Forrest Reid and I think it would fit in well n this site. I'd love to know your thoughts
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: The Adventures of Howudino and Kashin
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Topic: "Bryce" by pertinax carrus
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I've just re-read this, at http://awesomedude.com/pertinaxcarrus/bryce/index.htm
For any gay Catholics, it might be an interesting read. For me - and I suspect for many others - it's a challenging read, and a very useful exercise in trying hard to understand the viewpoint of someone we don't share many common assumptions with.
It's an inter-racial gay college love story, which is rather sweet, interspersed with avowedly-didactic slabs of a student's struggles to reconcile his Catholic theology with his love of his boyfriend. I also enjoy the short stories by the same author (although the further stories in the "Bryce" series have for me stepped much too far over the line between storytelling and preaching, and I wouldn't recommend them to any except the most desperate!).
I'd be interested to hear if anyone else has read "Bryce", and what they made of it.
"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. ... Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night devoid of stars." Martin Luther King
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Topic: Snip: A Short Story by Thinkpositively
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Thinkpositively
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Getting started |
Location: Seattle
Registered: July 2014
Messages: 4
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http://www.gayauthors.org/story/think-positively/snip/1Snip I whizzed out onto South Courtenay Parkway on my Mongoose that evening before Christmas, eager to speak with Kyle when the car struck me.The night sky was lit by a full moon; the roads were slick with ice, making it hard to get out of the way of a speeding vehicle. I didn't feel much pain on impact, only an immortal force hurling into my body, as if being body-slammed by the entire Pacific ocean while on my surfboard, pulverized onto the coral reef below.I rolled off the hood of the Corvette, tumbling over the vehicle and smacking onto the ice with a sickening thud, the smell of motor oil and gasoline remained in my nose, I cried. The car skidded to a stop, it's windshield spider-webbed into a million shards lumbering on the curb. The car door opened. A patent leather black Doc Martin stepped onto the pavement. It had a skull & crossbones pendant on its zipper that jangled a few times. Then the foot returned to the car and sped away, throwing chunks of glass, ice and rock from its rear tires, fleeing away from me."Come back," I cried, as a bolt of pain rocketed through my body.So there I lay, on this deserted suburban street in front of Tommy Taylor's home near the intersection, a flashing red streetlight hung near me, blinking it's statement upon my face as snowflakes fell lightly on me, mixing with my tears. Blood pooled around my head congealing on my ears. My hair froze onto the asphalt. I figured I wasn't getting up when my I saw the soles of my boots lying on my chest. Made in the China, it said. Nothing seems to be made in American anymore.Karma.Back in fourth grade, my best friend Kyle Metcalfe and I, got this magic eight ball he kept by his bedside table. It was marred and scratched from all the times we used it to play Rundown when no other ball could be found. We often played baseball in Tommy Taylor's backyard just behind the house and in front of the lake. I never felt good about swimming there, I was afraid I would die like that kid from Jefferson Junior High School. I got so scared for my own life that Kyle shook his Magic 8 Ball and asked the ball if I would live a long healthy life.Sources Say No, the ball said. Kyle shook it again. Don't Count On It. Three more times it gave him the unwanted answer; but he kept shaking it, until, from under the dark blue liquid appeared a reluctant It Is Decidedly So."See?" he told me sporting his confident smile. "Nothing to worry about. We have all the time in the world." I wasn't convinced.I think about that now, All the time in the world, and laugh as some of my senses gradually leave my body and others began pinging my pain receptors with a vengeance. Bullshit, all the time in the world. I could no longer hear Tom's Great Dane telling me off down the hill. I remembered that dog. He ate my lunch once. Perhaps he went inside the house to get me help.I never thought I was going to die like this. I had somehow convinced myself that my death would be more meaningful, or at least substantial in the grander scheme of things; something like taking a bullet for the President; or holding back Islamic Jihadist in a firefight with my M16 or saving the neighbors kid from drowning. Never like this. This was a back page newspaper death, inconsequential, forgotten before the The Sentinel was delivered to our doorstep. The universe would be ready to move on before my funeral. Only my family would notice. Then again, they don't read the paper much. Neanderthals.That is a rather pessimistic view of things, said a voice from the darkness.Suddenly a luminous figure emerged appeared from the partly cloudy sky, half lit by the glow of the street lamps and the even brighter glow from the full moon. Compared to this wonder, my pain became insignificant."Help," I yelled above a whisper, feeling jagged chunks of teeth in my mouth.It was an angel, a boy angel. He appeared about my age, wrapped in shimmering white linen with the most kind, delicate of features. His long arms extended out almost in a semi-circular motion, and in one quick movement, a majestic glow erupted out from behind him like a protective umbrella blocking the snow that began to fall in my eyes.It...he...was extraordinary."Help me," I tried again. "I will," he said.The winged angel knelt down, his pug nose mere inches from mine. His breath was warm; his hair brushed my cheeks. His smell was that of chocolate chip cookies. He spoke in a soft whisper that was young and reedy, somewhat timid. His voice came through the air, as if a tentative flower blossoming in my ear as if from some far away world.Liam Packard? He knew my name. You are Liam Michael Packard? I hope I didn't get this wrong. Ah Jesus! You are Liam, son to Michael and Kelly Packard, right?His finger brushed away my tears and combed through my wet hair, soothingly, gently picking out the flecks of dried blood and entangled bits of asphalt and bone.Yeah, it's me. What are you doing? I asked.Cleaning your hair, the boy said. It's a bit messy.I squinted, trying to make out his more delicate, almost perfect features; a network of wrinkles spread across his forehead, cluing me in that he cared for me. At the corners of his eyes tiny worry lines gave him a look of experience. His lips and cheeks were rosy, and his hands were boyish with calluses. His blue eyes remained focused upon me giving me a feeling of calm. From the deepest part of my heart, I sensed who this was. Are you the Angel of Death?He smiled and nodded in confirmation as he continued to work.I coughed a laugh that hurled a spew of bright-oxygenated blood through the cold night air, sending ripples of pain through my body as rings of blood undulated dark red beneath my head. I groaned in misery.I always thought you'd be scarier with all that hellfire & brimstone my Grandpa constantly spoke about. Honestly, he got on my nerves.Are you in pain? The angel asked.I nodded. It was then that the boy reached out to me placing his hand under my shirt. His soft touch felt warm on my bare chest when suddenly, I began to feel a lightness I have never felt before. It was as if gravity no longer applied to me. My pain diminished entirely. He removed his hand and brushed aside my bangs from falling in my eyes. He smiled. My soul filled with joy despite my peculiar condition. He held my hand and brushed away my tears. No, I said.What about the holy reckoning? I asked.For some people, I am hellfire at first, he said confidingly. My shape is not a definite thing. Sometimes I am a flower, an orchid or beads of water; sometimes an animal like a puppy; sometimes nothing living, but an idea like peace or love. Whatever the soul needs, I am. To you I am simply--a boy.Only you have wings, I said, more as a statement than a question. What do I need?You need a friend, to clean your wounds and ease your pain.He knelt near me, straightening my arms. Holding my attention, he smiled once more, easing my anxiety. There was, after all, some trepidation in my heart. I hadn't lived the best life. I wasn't the best kid...or the best son. I've knowingly done bad things.Close your eyes. You have nothing to fear, said the angel.Though, I was afraid. Perhaps this would be my last few moments on Earth. But relax, I did. He seemed to have a power over me. There was this familiar warmth to his voice that compelled me to listen and learn, to give myself over and let His love sift through my soul, like milk through cheesecloth. I felt him pull me in and my fear fell away. I finally opened my mind and closed my eyes, at peace, as images of my happy family panned before me.Most people have something holding them back, he said, like a tether on a balloon anchoring them to this world. It could be something material, a person, or an unfinished goal, a promise unkept. There are many reasons to want to keep living. I feel this in you. What is yours?I smiled just thinking about it. It's Kyle, I said.The angel stroked my cheek again, this time so gently I wanted to cry. I want my mom.There. There, he whispered soothingly, tell me about Kyle.I looked at the angel suspiciously. It wasn't the time to come-out of the closet--especially when you lay in a pool of your own blood, exsanguinating, only a whisper from death. Then again, wouldn't God already know? If I'm screwed, I'm screwed, right?I met Kyle in first grade. Wait. How am I talking? I can't move.You're communicating with your mind, Liam. Go on. I've never been a real boy and I want to know, he said as he straightened my other leg. Tell me more.* * *I was playing on the monkey bars by myself, as usual, when this soccer ball came out of nowhere and hit me on my head, knocking me to the ground. It took me a few blinks to realize just what had happened. Someone came over to see if I was all right; it was a blond haired kid with a dove-shaped scar under his chin.* * *"Are you okay?" the boy asked me, looking down. At first, I didn't answer. I was too mesmerized by the scar, and its inherent pale color to register anything like a voice. Once the shock wore off I pointed up and asked him, "Where'd you get that scar?""My brother," He said, smiling. "He pushed me off the car when I was little. There was all this blood on my face. I had to get stitches. It was yucky. Look at this one," he said proudly, directed my attention to a long eight-inch gash running diagonally across his shinbone. "Sand shark! I bled like a stuck pig."I never knew anyone who had to gotten so many stitches before, let alone someone who was attacked by a real shark. I stood up, not bothering to brush the dirt off my butt."Can I touch it?" I asked.He held out his leg proudly. The scar felt smooth under my fingers. Like his chin, it felt like virgin silk and I was in awe. "Wicked! I don't have any scars," I told him.The boy picked the ball up off the ground and gave me a measured look. "Do you want play with us?" he asked. I looked at the ball and the other boys waiting out there in the soccer field. I started to worry. I was supposed to be the invisible boy. You know, the boy who melted into the wallpaper at school. I was the ghost haunting the playground. How strange, I thought, to be noticed so suddenly, and find a friend, so easily. "I don't know how to play," I said."That's okay," he said, taking me by the hand. "Come on. I'll show you."So he taught me how to dribble the ball and how to kick it with the side of my foot so I could control where it goes; how to fake-out a defensive men, or better yet; a goalie. I enjoyed how easy it was to be with this guy. If I messed up he'd laugh encouragingly; if I spoke, he'd listened and answered like he really cared, and wanted to talk to me--much the opposite of my old school, or my father for that matter.* * *Kyle was my first friend, I told the angel. It's funny. I never liked soccer. The only reason I joined the team was because of him.He had quite an influence on you, Death observed. You excelled. M.V.P. 2010-2012.I was ready to follow him anywhere.* * *Kyle also gave me my first cigarette. He dragged me to the back alley of our middle school, where dumpsters hid us from any passerby. He began looking around paranoid-like, as if at any moment a teacher would pop out of a trashcan and nab us. It was funny watching him. He made me laugh. There was something appealing about his face too. I loved looking at him."Why are we back here?" I asked."I need to pee.""In front of me?""Shut up for a sec; it crawls back up if you talk," he said, his eyes still darting all over the place. "Look what I have.""I'm afraid to...it's not like I don't have one myself.""No you nut...this!" he taunted, holding out his hand. "It's a roll-up. It belonged to my brother. He dropped it this morning."From his palm he pulled out the thing and placed it in my hand."It's so small," I whispered. Maybe it was all the movies I'd seen, but I always imagined a homemade to be bigger, longer, more...Cheeks & Chong-like, elegantly huge, if that makes any sense. What I held it my hand was a small papery stick that was almost odorless and lighter than air. It may not have been all I'd imagined, but still it sent shivers of shaking adrenaline throughout my arms, chest, and legs. I was jumping with a surge of "holy cow" coursing through my veins. I couldn't stand still. I suddenly had to piss. My teeth began to chatter in early September while my armpits sweat like my hands. Piss shot out of my burgeoning hard-on like a city fire hydrant under pressure that splashed the brick wall."It feels good to be bad, doesn't it?" Kyle asked a millimeter from my earlobe. "How'd you know?""I've felt that way my first time. Are you cold, you got goosebumps everywhere. Christ it's a 100 degrees out here.""How did you get this?" I asked dumbstruck."It fell through a hole in Ernie's pocket. He's as smart as fudge. I was walking behind him when it fell out," he said, with a wicked grin. "The fool doesn't even realize half of Fred's Auto Shop knows that he's a looser hophead who's loosing his shit right 'n left. They just follow him and reap the rewards. Wasted cum, man. But I got the stuff!" "What's cum?" I thumbed the end of the spliff, where it twisted closed like a screw."What? Are you kidding me?""Hold on," he said. He dug a hot pink colored lighter from the front pocket of his blue overalls pocket, struck the trigger a few times until a steady flame danced off the tip. Then he told me to hold out the roll-up. I did, and he waved the flame underneath the tip until it began to glow orange. A wisp of smoke rose from the joint's mouth. "You wanna go first?" he asked."You found it," I said, holding the stick out to him. "You go.""Chicken."Kyle plucked the spliff from my hand and gingerly placed it between his lips. He sucked on it like he was drinking a chocolate shake through a narrow straw, swallowing down the smoke. Color fled from his face a moment. In seconds, he was coughing, "Your turn," wiping spit from his lips, holding the roll-up up to me. I got scared."Waaait! That's not no cigarette. That smells funny. That's a marijuana.""Are you going to wuss-out? Come on. Here, I'll make it more exciting for you."He took another huge tug on it, and just as quickly stepped forward. Our lips grazed so tenderly that I completely lost myself, taking in his aroma and sweet taste. I felt myself begin to swell again. I held the roach as Kyle began to kiss me, exploring my mouth. Instantly his hands went around the small of my back, caressing me, and I was his. Looking down, shyly, I realized that our friendship had taken a new path. He was hard as me and I kissed him back, this time without excuses, or fear. I returned the embrace, sliding my hands up his warm back."Whoa," he said, smiling.When I reached for the joint, someone cleared their deep throat behind me. A janitor was standing between the dumpsters, holding a trash bag. He dropped it, took the roach from my hand and took a long pull on it. Then he crushed it beneath his boot, and said, "Come with me."Principal O'Connor looked like he was about to Vesuvius as he lectured us on peer pressure and the dangers of smoking. A smile spread across his face. Mr. O'Connor sighed and said our parents would be informed. The janitor kept our most precious secret.* * *We got a week's suspension for that, I said. First time I ever got in so much trouble. It was kind of exciting, almost like I had become a cool kid, maybe. But I wasn't cool. The next day Harold Hutzler flushed my head in the toilet. Being cool was just an allusion. Nothing but violence is understood in middle school.Were you angry with Kyle for the trouble he got you into? asked the angel.A little, but he liked me. I shrugged best I could in my position, frozen to the ground. My dad hit me hard for the principal's phone call. I never told Kyle what my parents did. I guess I figured the pain was worth being his friend. I smiling ruefully. Is that strange or what?Death shook his head.Liam, at this point there is no such thing as strange, or stupid, or sinful, right or wrong. Jesus paid that price. There is only 'what was,' and that is something no words can describe. Everyone's past is so specific, and so peculiar and unique. There are no standards to set your life by. You were suspended from school, your father hit you, and you got your first kiss. You moved on, and that's all there is to it.I'm not going to hell?No. Somehow you humans got it all wrong, despite being given a guidebook. God's message is about love, it's that simple. There is no hell. There is no purgatory or eternal damnation. God isn't about negative energy. God's message is love. He smiled with such warmth it made me feel as though I were in my mother's arms again. Please continue, he asked.* * *During our suspension from school, we played soccer nonstop. Living in this penny-ante-town there was nothing else to do but play soccer, fish, and kiss. There was a wide field out behind his Dad's pool, completely flattened, as if run over by a pack Brontosauruses. We'd play there for hours, only stopping when our legs went numb and we were out of breathe, then we'd sneak into the pool. Did you know most guys lie about their size? Oh, sorry.Time slowed down that week. We were isolated. It was like in being in an air bubble floating in the middle of the ocean. That isolation from all our responsibilities had a weird affect on us, specifically Kyle. He'd get this far away look in his eyes and we'd have these really deep conversations. What if talks, he called them. I never met anyone like him. I felt love. That was when he would start talking about our futures."Do you know what you want to do after graduation?" he asked me."From high school? No," I said, caught off guard by the question, after all twelfth grade was years away. "Why? Do you?""Kind of." He balanced the ball on his head. "I want to get out of here, go somewhere far away and play ball in the professional leagues. Imagine playing for Manchester United! You should go to college there and become a writer.""How far away is that?""England.""England?! You've never been further than Jacksonville!""You got a good chance, Liam. You got to do it. You got all those stories stuck in your head. It's like God is saying: "Hey kid! Wise up! This is what we got for you kid. Try not to loose it." But kids loose everything unless there's someone looking out for them. I'd like to be that friend to you, Liam, that person who looks out for you. You're parents never will. It's you and me, Dude."There was a long moment of silence. Kyle held my hand and we kissed some. Finally he just held me. I never felt so right."Anyway, you're going to think I'm nuts when I say this, but sometimes, when I wake up early in the morning, just before the sun is about to rise, I get this feeling in my chest, this thump, thump, thumping, like a bongo drum telling me I'm meant to do something big, like...like discovering the wheel, or a new energy source...or world peace!""You sure it wasn't heartburn? You had a lot of donuts?" I asked."Blow me," he said with his usual confidence. "I have big plans, Liam. The last thing I want is to be is stuck here with stupid northern tourist. All I have to do is find a way out. You'll help me, won't you?" He said, eyeing me questioningly.I punched him in the arm, messed up his hair and laughed. "Where you go, I go."* * *It's weird, I said to Death, You think you're going to be someone's friend forever, but at the same time you know nothing lasts. It's like Robert Frost said, nothing gold can stay:Nature's first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf's a flower;But only so an hour.Then leaf subsides to leafSo Eden sank to grief,So dawn goes down today.Nothing gold can stay.It's this contradiction in your mind. You know nothing lasts forever, but you don't really acknowledge it or plan for broken friendships, hoping that you'll be the exception. But, everything ends, no matter what. Our love was no different. The cracks appeared in the strangest places. We were playing with some other guys from school at Hamilton Park when this group of high school girls sat down on the bleachers and started whistling at us. One of them winked at him and giggled. Some of the guys waved or hollered back, but I kept my head down, watching him slip away. Kyle looked down too, but I could tell he was distracted. He smiled. A week later, he came into my bedroom, smiling this bizarre smile, like he wasn't sure why he was smiling. He pulled a Playboy magazine out of his backpack and pulled on my penis. No one had ever done that before. I froze.* * *"Found it under my dad's bed," he said. We flipped through it together on the floor, staring at the dozens of naked girls and hot guys smiling back at us; the girl's breast popping out of the pages and etching into our brains. Kyle's face got closer and closer to the magazine with every turn of the page. He started to get a bit excited and threw me on the bed ripping my underpants down. It was the first and best blow job of my life. After I came he forced me to give him one too. I choked, but he seemed to be using me like a wrench. That was the last time we were close. I was cried. "OH! Yeah! Fuckin 'A'!" he said. Was he grading me? I felt used.I pretended like I wasn't hurt. When Kyle was finished he was staring intently at one of the model's dark nipples, sitting besides my science book, wondering if I "got it." I began to think maybe there was something wrong with me, really wrong. I was disgusted. I hated him. What's wrong with me, I wondered. I began to hate myself. I even thought about suicide when he left without saying goodbye. He just took his Playboy with him and left.I know, he said. I was there.The moment I really got it came a few weeks later.In the locker room, as Kyle talked to his other friend named, Charlie, about some girls in their World History class, my eyes began to wander down the aisle to the lockers where a swimmer I didn't know, was undressing. He was my age. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt, all the way down, revealing his smooth, rippled stomach. I watched in mesmerized curiosity as his fingers wrapped around the slender waist of his shorts and pulled down. Whoa! A fire ignited in my heart, causing my blood to boil, my breath to quicken, and all I could think about was what it would feel like...and then it happen, in my pants. Uggghh! I'm gay.* * *Christ! Oh, Lord, am I sorry. And you an angel 'n all! I am going straight to hell, I said. There's no doubt about it.I told you, Liam, there is no hell. Sorry to disappoint you. There is only understanding and love. A deeper love than what is possible for human beings to comprehend. When we leave, you will no longer think about sexual desires or have yearnings of a carnal nature, you'll be changed into spirit. That's why this is such an education. It helps me understand the earthly world. Humans carry so much guilt, Liam. But you, you carry sorrow also. Why? Tell me, I want to understand.* * *The next day the confusion made me nauseas like there was some small crazed animal, clawing its way out of my chest. I didn't understand my new feelings, or the conflict I was having with them. My feelings scared me. I didn't want them. I don't want them. No one wants to be hated by the world. I felt happy one moment and revolted the next. I felt like I was loosing my mind and hoped the football team would kill me before my own father.That was when Kyle's hand slapped the back of my head."Were you listening at all?" he asked. When I didn't respond, he put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, are you all right?""No."It was a simple touch. He'd touched my shoulder before. But it was different now, almost like he was trespassing on sacred ground. I needed to get away from him. It was too close. Sinful. Everybody would know. And then I popped a flagpole the height of the Eiffel Tower."Hey everybody," yelled some jock, "Liam popping a huge boner. Woop! Woop! Faggot Alert!""Don't touch me," I yelled, shoving him hard into the wall of lockers. All the locks trembled under the force of his body. Someone started chanting "FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT," and others crowded in. Where all the guys came from so suddenly, I will never know.Kyle looked like I had kicked him in the heart."What did I do?" he asked.What did he do? He had to be kidding. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what he did, only to realize he didn't do anything. It was all me; all over sensitive, care-to-much-about-what-other-people-think me.Before I could apologize, someone shoved me into him. I probably looked menacing because Kyle threw his fist into my face without any hesitation. Shaking off the pain, I jumped on him, punching at his sides, kicking at him with my knees. The cheers were deafening as we wrestled on the locker room floor fighting, all the while I kept in mind how close our bodies were and how I was hurting the one person I loved the most.* * *It took a few minutes for a teacher to break us up. That was a strange day.Do you still have feelings for Kyle? asked the angel.No, I said. I mean, not really. Sort of...It's complicated, I--Then I smiled, perhaps because I didn't know what else to do.It doesn't matter. We started to drift apart after that fight. He got a girlfriend named Laura McNally. She's Captain of the girls swim team, debate team, baseball team and basketball team. She's really pretty and he loved her.Were they a good match for each other? asked Death.So good, in fact, that Kyle realized he didn't need me anymore. She was better at soccer than I, funnier, smarter...prettier. Sexier, I guess. The woman he was waiting for. I was just in the way.I swallowed a particularly large wad of spit that tasted like blood. I shivered. Please, I'm cold. Will you warm me up some?Sure, he said, and just that quickly I felt a warm glow come over me. It's amazing how focused you are when you are dying on a lonely road. Suddenly the stars became brighter and I could instantly recall the names of all the constellations as I spotted meteors streak across the night sky. I made a wish when I saw a falling star.I've spoke to Kyle maybe twice in three years.When was the last time you saw him? Death asked.Two days ago. * * *He called me. He said he wanted to talk. I met him in the convenience store where he worked. People were walking in and out, some saying hello while others kept their heads down, passing their magazines and sodas under the price scanner. At one point in the night, customers stopped coming in all together. We were alone. He said nothing at first, only began to clean up the store, sweeping some trash off the floor and straighten the soup cans and the end caps, that's their specials. This week it's a pyramid of Tiny Moore Roast Beef Soup. I helped him hang the Ads. He spoke as he finished counting the money in the register."I can't take it anymore," he whispered like a conspirator. "It's too much.""What are you talking about?" I asked. "What's too much?"Kyle flicked off some switches behind the Slushie machine and sat on the counter. I took a seat beside him as all the lights in the store shut off systematically, except for the one directly above us, creating a halo of light--a halo! A shadow covered half his face as he spoke."I feel like I'm living someone else's life, someone a lot older than I am. Someone who knows more, someone who's more... I don't know the word. Capable? I can't handle this." I could hear the air conditioning shut off with a hum, and then a ting, ting, ting, as the blades of some fan came to rest against a shard of tin, leaving only Kyle's voice occupying the lonely store. He leaned over the counter to grab a barbecue flavored Slim Jim. Then he took a swig from my Coke. We still had a kind on intimacy, I guess. Again he leaned heavily into me. I felt his heat. I am such a sucker for boys with dark hair and green eyes."Laura had a baby girl," he said, lighting a cigarette, his hand trembling, "Why didn't I stay with you?"I said, "Is she yours?"WAIT. What did he just say?"I'm confused, Liam. What do I do now?"I shrugged. He had my brain spinning. I've been waiting years to hear what he just said."You know the right thing to do," I said.Never before had I seen him look so lost. He was after all Kyle, the risk taker. Kyle, the guy with all the answers. Kyle, the happiest kid in the world. At this moment he seemed like the loneliest boy in the world. But we weren't little boys any more. We were seniors for Christ's sake! I know better. He should too. My heart ached for him nonetheless.I patted his shoulder, unsure how to comfort him. "It'll be okay," I said.Then he started to cry."It's not fair," he sobbed, his hands trembling, pressing up against his eyes. "Why me? I'm only seventeen. This isn't supposed to happen! Not on your first time! We were only having fun, that's all. It was just supposed to be sex...that's it. You know, a release. I'm not ready. I'm not fucking ready to be a father. What do I do? And she's Catholic!"I tried to feel sorry for him. But then, I realized what a moron he was. He cried for a while. I just sat there wishing I knew what to say. What would make him feel better? Moron or not, I still loved him. Why'd he disregard Human Sexuality 101? Even I know if you make love...with a girl and stuff comes out.... It's not hard. This is what my dad was talking about when he criticized Kyle. My Dad knew. My Dad was right. Christ! Why'd he have to fuck up?Kyle wiped his face against my sleeve and jumped off the counter. A manic smile broke across his face. He walked up to me pressing my back against the Pepsi cooler and kissed me hard. On my lips he left a hundred questions with one statement. "Let's get out of here.""And go where?" I asked, a little unnerved by the crazed look in his eyes. This feeling stayed with me a while, like the salty taste of stupidity that hung on my tongue posing as a hooded executioner. I wasn't sure I wanted to be with him. "This is no Etch o' Sketch, Kyle. You can't just shake it to make it go away. A baby has been born. Your daughter.""Let's go, Liam."He ignored me. A few moments passed. I had enough. "Go where?""Anywhere."His voice grew more excited with every word. "We can take my mom's station wagon, pack up all our stuff and keep driving till we hit the coast. Never come back.""What will we do on the coast, become Cabana Boys? What about Laura?""Why'd I get involved with her? No one likes girls named Laura, they're all bitchy sluts. I should have known."I hung my head. Who is this guy? I wondered, waiting for him to redeem himself."Oh shit, Liam. Come with me, let's just drive.""If she's a slut Kyle, what's that make you?" I stared at him. "Grow up!"I never thought I'd love someone who would run from their problems."I know," he paused with excitement. "Let's go to L.A.! We always said we wanted to.""Sure, but what about the baby?" I asked. Kyle just stared at the sky, not hearing me."Or we can take a boat and sail out to sea. We can assume new identities, become completely different people. You speak Spanish?""Pirrates adolescentes?" I suggested in Spanish."I like it. I like it a lot," he said, snapping his fingers."And whoa, the local girls with their foreign ways," Kyle said with a wink. "More action than you can imagine."I lost it! "I'm GAY asshole. I'm in love with you. Is that it, Kyle? We take all that we can get and screw the ones we love? We're better than that, Kyle. Aren't we?""No responsibilities," he said."No responsibilities at all?" I echoed. I bit my lip. "Sounds asshole.""It does, doesn't it?" Shadows dripped down Kyle's face like a black paw. "It could be so easy. All we'd have to do is get in the car and drive and loose our souls."He walked back to the counter and sat beside me, his right hand fumbling with his pink lighter, striking the trigger a few times before letting it go. From his mouth he made a long slow sigh, the kind he summoned from the lowest regions of a troubled heart as he make smoke rings in the store."I don't even love her."I nodded. "You will love the child you made together.""You always do the right thing. That's why I love you.""Why do you always have a pink lighter, Kyle?""Huh?" The question was so random I lost him for a moment."I asked you why do you always have a pink lighter?""Because I can't tell my father.""It's okay to be gay, Kyle.""Not to my old man. I'm stuck here, aren't I, to play this straight role.""We all have a part to play," I said.We sat under the lights in silence, neither of us knowing what to say next.Eventually, Kyle said he was tired and that he had a test tomorrow and then slipped off the counter and switched off the last light that hummed softly. As we disappeared into the darkness, I wanted to say something to him, words of comfort maybe, or even a simple "I'm here for you" to let him know he wasn't alone. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out."I have to face up to this," he said through the darkness.I had nothing to add.* * *I didn't even say goodbye, I said under the flickering streetlight, as a strange weight in my chest began to grasp me. Yesterday, I went over and over in my mind the things I could've said to him--should've said to him, but nothing sounded right.It never does, Death said. You were on your way to see him tonight?I nodded.What were you going to say?I was gonna tell him that as long as he was stuck in this town, I'd be stuck too... that I'd always be here for him, no matter what, because I loved him.A long, bitter laugh filled the frosty air.Now that sounds pathetic, doesn't it?No, Death said simply. Not at all. It is love. It's the most powerful of emotions.I cried a moment.Death raised his hands into the air and summoned forth all the memories of Kyle. These memories flitted around, hovering above, like fireflies, pulsing with a soft golden glow, some dimmer than others--being older memories. All the images circling each other in confused spirals, linked together for eternity. I smiled at them all; Kyle and I at Boy Scout Camp; together on the first day of school; summer time sleeping in our makeshift tent; dinner with the folks, holding hands under the table. It went on and on, so many memories.Death pushed his hands toward each other, squishing the memories together until they were nothing more than a single strand of golden luminescence, the length of my entire body. It glinted a flaming orange in the night. He smiled at me with the strand beginning in his hands.This is Kyle's thread, he said. This is the tether holding you to this world and away from the love of your family in heaven, the only tie. Some people have dozens. You have one.From beneath his cloak, he took out a pair of scissors, snapped them a few times to make sure they operated properly, and placed the shears in my hand.No one can cut this string but you. He laid the string out between the blades of the scissors and then stood back, watching, waiting for me, to cut my lifeline.Is this it? I asked, more to myself than him, my voice trembling like a violin string.I cut this string and I... is this really it? I'm dead?Death placed his hand on my chest again, releasing my pain once more.It's not very satisfying, is it? You expect more, I know. But, the world that stands before you, well, that is immense. It's more spectacular than your human mind can conceive.This is really it, then? Nothing more? I asked, as a thought of my mother made me sad. I shook my head and a tear fell down my cheek.Nothing.And it's not fair?Never seems so, he said.And you wish it could be any other day but today?Of course, that's life. He smiled at me with those kind blue eyes, and every sound on earth seemed to go silent, as if the universe were holding its breath.I paused.Cut the string, he whispered, its time to go. You're ready.His hands clasped over mine, and I squeezed the handle of the scissors. As the blades dug into the string the streetlight popped, letting the darkness settle in. It was then I remembered something, a fragment of a memory from long ago. This memory rushed over me like a wave from the mighty Colorado river, a revelation, pumping what adrenaline I had left in my broken body into my consciousness, and despite everything, I found myself smiling.* * *"Sweet Jesus, you're heavy," Kyle groaned. It was our tenth birthday and Kyle pushed the shopping cart up the hill. Since I had won rock-paper-scissors, I got to ride in the basket, and was painfully aware of how slow we were moving, grinding slowly up along the river of street lights and candles in every window, the smell of BBQ ribs caught on the ocean breeze."I can walk faster than this," I complained.Sweat was pouring down Kyle's face, his arms straining to keep me going. "I've never wanted to punch someone as badly as I do you right now.""You look hot. Will it help if I fan you?" I waved my hands. "Here, does this help?""Thanks," he said, laughing. "That helps a lot, asshole."In another ten minutes we reached the top of the hill. Kyle caught his breath, and then jumped into the cart with me. We peered forward. The road ahead was steep. Chances were the cart would flip before we reached the end. There were dangers on all sides. We could die."So whose bright idea was this again?" I asked."Probably mine," he murmured, kissing me on the cheek.He shifted his body weight, and the cart edged forward and down the hill."You know," I said, panic creeping into my voice, "now that we're up here, looking down from the drop, I gotta say... I'm a little scared." "Now you tell me," Kyle turned to me with a look of mischievous affection."Why are you scared? I'm here. Buds forever?""Buds forever."Snip.
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Topic: A Story: Snip
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Topic: A Little Diddy about Jack and Duran
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Kitzyma
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Likes it here |
Registered: March 2012
Messages: 215
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Is there anyone who doesn't have regrets?
But life goes on...
A Little Diddy about Jack and Duran is a nicely crafted little story, bitter-sweet and with just a little twist in the tale.
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Topic: Story submissions
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Topic: Parker's Love
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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I found this an unusual tale, and I'd simply like to commend it and other tales by this author. There is an Epilogue to come for Parker.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Ruwen Rouhs
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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We have an interesting author in Ruwen Rouhs, who created intriguing tales and not in his first language. He's been with us since November 2011.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Lee Mariner
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Does anyone have any ability to contact Lee Mariner, please? The email address I have for him bounces and I was rather hoping his rewriting was going well.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: Respite...
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[i][u]Respite...
A summers day so warm on your skin,
An autumn eve the restful kin.
The winter's night cold and forlorn,
The coming of spring like a rose and its thorn.
Seasons will change and time will not halt,
And this is in no part your fault.
I never honestly thought this day would ever come,
Or at least that I wouldn't be privy to the rolling conundrum.
The eternal school of life couldn't even begin to explain,
The highs and lows of so much unnecessary torment and blame.
In the aftermath of our own personalized brand or Armageddon,
We now sit and evaluate the accounts of what feels like yester-year.
We see that we have weathered the storm together.
Now we are closer, stronger, directed, Purposeful, collaboratively more creative.
Just all round happier the figurative dust has settled and the weight is lifted.
I guess what we should really be saying is Thank You.
Thank you for teaching us, for pointing us in the right direction,
For the effort you inexorably exerted on yourself in selfishness,
Which ended up only creating Reason & Order out of Chaos & Discord.
Most of all Thank You
For opening up a door,
That we never thought was there before!
Written By - M-K Dobison
"And so the lion fell in love with the Lamb"
"What a stupid Lamb"
"What a sick, masochistic lion"
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Topic: Story types? A new site poll
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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We have a new poll about stories
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Topic: We lost a chapter!
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13751
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Harry, by The Composer, was incomplete. Now that has been rectified. It's well worth reading the older tales here.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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Pages (31): [ 3 ]
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A Story: Snip 
Lee Mariner 