The day around him was bright; the sun was beating down on the back of his neck and he was wishing desperately that he could go back to Minnesota. He hated being the new kid.
Angelo took his first steps into Xavier High School, cursing his parents for up and deciding that they wanted to move at the end of the school year. He wasn’t going to know anyone. Sighing, Angelo removed the schedule that his mother had gotten for him the day before from his back pocket and scanned it. His first class was English with H. Small in room 312. He grumbled obscenities to himself as he climbed the three flights of stairs and navigated his way to the proper room.
When Angelo found the right room, he took a deep breath and tried to slide inside without anyone knowing. But even though school hadn’t even really begun yet, the room was already full and almost every pair of eyes inside of it turned in his direction. What kind of freak place was this? Why was nearly every seat filled and the bell wasn’t due to ring for another─ he checked his watch─ two minutes?
“I assume you are our new student,” an irritated voice came from behind him. He wheeled around and found himself face to face with a balding man who he assumed to be in his late fifties. “Well?” the man who was obviously the teacher asked, raising his eyebrow. Before Angelo could respond, a boy his own age squeezed past the two of them and into the room. He hadn’t seen much of the other boy’s face, but whatever he had seen of it had made him forget what he was doing.
“Hello?” The voice seemed to be coming from so close, but so far away at the same time. He brought his eyes back to the balding man’s in front of him and suddenly remembered everything. He couldn’t seem to form words, so he merely nodded and held out his schedule for Mr. H. Small to inspect. He swallowed hard when his teacher gave him back his schedule and directed him to a seat on the other end of the room, a gracefully far distance away from the intriguing male who, unbeknownst to him at that point, had just walked into his life.
When the bell rang and class began, every eye in the room was glued to the chalkboard, diligently taking notes on the lesson. Angelo’s eyes were steadily becoming unstuck, however, as he fought not to look in the direction of that boy whose name, he found out halfway through the class when he answered one of Mr. Small’s questions, was Brien. He couldn’t understand why his eyes were so hungry for and ready to devour every inch of the other boy’s face if given even half a chance. Angelo was starting to perspire with the effort not to look so, cursing himself, he tore his eyes away from the chalkboard and fed them.
Something was so very wrong with this situation. Brien had apparently chosen the same moment to decide to look around the room and instead of just taking in his side profile, their sight lines met in the middle of the room and Angelo was captivated. His face started to burn from Brien’s eyes so intently watching him, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of his classmate and didn’t dare try. Why wasn’t Brien looking away? Why couldn’t he? He wondered desperately if the same feelings that were coursing through him were making their way through Brien as well. But he wondered even more desperately why these forbidden feelings were coursing through him. He’d never been attracted to a male before, but he could tell that he was most definitely attracted to Brien; even if he tried to deny it to himself, the sudden tightness of his boxer-briefs would have stood proudly in rebellion and proclaimed it as fact.
Angelo was suddenly imagining himself throwing Brien down to the floor and doing things to him. They were immoral things…things that God would certainly not approve of. And then Angelo wasn’t seeing Brien anymore. He was completely lost in his own imagination and could only see himself and Brien alone, enthusiastically marking the desks, the floor, the walls and even Mr. Small’s abnormally large desk as their own territory like they were rabid dogs. He was lost in one such thought of Brien and himself consummating their new friendship on the window sill when a finger snapped in front of his face and he was brought, grudgingly, back to reality.
He blinked twice as the room came back into focus around him. Most of the room was empty, but what concerned him the most was that the seat that had held Brien was empty. His eyes darted frantically around the room before coming to rest on a shirt that was covering a body that was standing slightly to his right. He followed the illustration of a monkey running off with some poor person’s arm up until he reached skin and then let his eyes continue traveling until they saw face and his breath caught in his throat. Brien was standing in front of him, looking down with a semi-concerned expression on his face. As soon as their eyes met, however, Brien looked away; Angelo scrunched up his face and wondered why the other boy would do something so terrible.
Angelo was on the verge of asking Brien why he looked away when Mr. Small’s voice drifted up from the front of the room. “Brien, Angelo?” They both looked at the teacher and Angelo felt an animal-like urge to pounce on the older man. He swallowed his urge and bit his tongue. “Don’t you have classes to get to?” Angelo suddenly felt embarrassed and gathered up his things as quickly as he could and shoved them into his bag. He heard Brien apologize to the teacher as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up, but Brien was blocking the path to the doorway.
“Excuse me,” he said, and immediately cursed himself for sounding so weak. What was wrong with him? Angelo was allowed passage as Brien stepped aside, but he tried to move too quickly and brushed against the other boy as he tried to squeeze past him. He shivered when their skin connected as the electricity jettisoned through his body and he vacated the room as quickly as he could without looking back. He couldn’t begin to describe how many things were wrong with what just happened.
29 April 2010
28 April 2010
It's Not Enough
It's not enough that I want you,
It's not enough that I care.
You're gonna keep doing exactly what you do,
And I'll keep thinking that life isn't fair.
It's enough that I said yes,
To try and help you with your life.
And now what do I have left,
Except for loneliness and strife?
It's not enough that I trusted you,
With my very heart and soul.
It's not enough that my intentions were totally true,
Your lying still took its toll.
I wonder if you’re invested at all,
In what you say is just you and me.
Or am I stupid to keep making the call,
Instead of just letting you be?
I thought that you were a good guy,
But maybe I was wrong.
Was the entire thing a big fat lie?
Do you laugh at me as I sit back and long?
It’s never been about you and me,
It’s all about you trying to find your way.
But I'm the pathetic one because you'll never see
That I'll love you no matter what people say.
It's not enough that I for you I go beyond and above,
Or that I'll never be untrue.
Because I know that when the push comes to the shove,
I'll never be enough for you.
It's not enough that I care.
You're gonna keep doing exactly what you do,
And I'll keep thinking that life isn't fair.
It's enough that I said yes,
To try and help you with your life.
And now what do I have left,
Except for loneliness and strife?
It's not enough that I trusted you,
With my very heart and soul.
It's not enough that my intentions were totally true,
Your lying still took its toll.
I wonder if you’re invested at all,
In what you say is just you and me.
Or am I stupid to keep making the call,
Instead of just letting you be?
I thought that you were a good guy,
But maybe I was wrong.
Was the entire thing a big fat lie?
Do you laugh at me as I sit back and long?
It’s never been about you and me,
It’s all about you trying to find your way.
But I'm the pathetic one because you'll never see
That I'll love you no matter what people say.
It's not enough that I for you I go beyond and above,
Or that I'll never be untrue.
Because I know that when the push comes to the shove,
I'll never be enough for you.
26 April 2010
Slightly extended nightmare scene from Darkness
The darkness pressed in around Brien like a blanket wrapped tightly around a sleeping toddler; it was complete, it was absolute. He didn’t know where he was, he just knew that he wanted to be out of this place as soon as humanly possible. He couldn’t see anything at all, and the silence in the room─ if it was, indeed, a room that he was in─ was deafening. Even though there was no light and no sound, there were definitely smells. The fragrance of burning wood hung thick in the air, but there was another scent mixed in with it. Brien couldn’t quite put his finger on what the smell was, but he didn’t like it; he thought it smelled like roasting flesh.
Brien held out his hands and felt through the emptiness around him as he started to walk, trying to figure out where, exactly, he was.
“Hello?” he called, and the darkness absorbed the sound. There was no echo. Brien stopped walking, suddenly terrified of going one step too far and tumbling off the edge of wherever he was and falling through the darkness for eternity. “Hell─” he started to call, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the darkness that was surrounding him seemed to come alive. He could feel it moving and pulsating around him. The darkness crept along his skin like beads of perspiration and made his flesh break out in goose bumps. He tried to speak again and then some of the darkness forced its way down his throat.
Coughing and gagging, Brien started to move again, now desperate to find his way to any form of light. He could feel the darkness spreading within him, painting itself across and claiming every part of his insides it could reach. He fell to his knees, the darkness that was now spreading across his lungs suffocating him.
And then there was light and the darkness retreated. Brien audibly sucked back oxygen and looked around for the source of the light. A pyre towered in front of him, already ablaze; the light that had so suddenly filled the room was the golden glow from the fire. At first, he couldn’t tell whether or not there was a person strapped to that heap of wood, but then he smelled roasting flesh again, and the scream that pierced the air like a sharpened dagger cutting through skin froze his blood.
Suddenly he could make out the outline of a person engulfed in flames and screaming for life. Brien got to his feet and walked closer to the burning man. The closer he got, the more it felt like it was his own skin that the flames were licking. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed out smoke. He could feel himself being burned from the inside out; his lungs blistered from the heat of the fire. The room was suddenly too hot for him to handle. He fell to his knees once again and cried out as he felt his skin begin to melt away; one look at his hand showed him his skin dripping away in grotesque globs. The sight of the exposed muscles and bones that were now outrageously visible made his stomach twist and turn and lurch in ways that he had never thought possible. He forced himself to look up at the burning man once more as he felt the flames tickling the back of his eyeballs and tried to fight the terror that he was suddenly submerged in. He struggled to see past the fire that had sprung to life within him and could finally make out the figure. He was the one that was strapped to the pyre, being burned alive for something that he hadn’t done.
Brien held out his hands and felt through the emptiness around him as he started to walk, trying to figure out where, exactly, he was.
“Hello?” he called, and the darkness absorbed the sound. There was no echo. Brien stopped walking, suddenly terrified of going one step too far and tumbling off the edge of wherever he was and falling through the darkness for eternity. “Hell─” he started to call, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the darkness that was surrounding him seemed to come alive. He could feel it moving and pulsating around him. The darkness crept along his skin like beads of perspiration and made his flesh break out in goose bumps. He tried to speak again and then some of the darkness forced its way down his throat.
Coughing and gagging, Brien started to move again, now desperate to find his way to any form of light. He could feel the darkness spreading within him, painting itself across and claiming every part of his insides it could reach. He fell to his knees, the darkness that was now spreading across his lungs suffocating him.
And then there was light and the darkness retreated. Brien audibly sucked back oxygen and looked around for the source of the light. A pyre towered in front of him, already ablaze; the light that had so suddenly filled the room was the golden glow from the fire. At first, he couldn’t tell whether or not there was a person strapped to that heap of wood, but then he smelled roasting flesh again, and the scream that pierced the air like a sharpened dagger cutting through skin froze his blood.
Suddenly he could make out the outline of a person engulfed in flames and screaming for life. Brien got to his feet and walked closer to the burning man. The closer he got, the more it felt like it was his own skin that the flames were licking. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed out smoke. He could feel himself being burned from the inside out; his lungs blistered from the heat of the fire. The room was suddenly too hot for him to handle. He fell to his knees once again and cried out as he felt his skin begin to melt away; one look at his hand showed him his skin dripping away in grotesque globs. The sight of the exposed muscles and bones that were now outrageously visible made his stomach twist and turn and lurch in ways that he had never thought possible. He forced himself to look up at the burning man once more as he felt the flames tickling the back of his eyeballs and tried to fight the terror that he was suddenly submerged in. He struggled to see past the fire that had sprung to life within him and could finally make out the figure. He was the one that was strapped to the pyre, being burned alive for something that he hadn’t done.
25 April 2010
Excerpt from Darkness Round The Sun
This scene takes place at the beginning of chapter two. It's one of my favorites.
Brien yawned deeply as he tried to focus enough to stay awake. He was sitting at one of the library’s long tables, attempting to read a book on HTML coding for his information systems class, but the words on the page merely passed through his brain, without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind them; he equated the experience with trying to teach a blind man sign language. A familiar scent wafted towards him on the wings of the air. He looked up hesitantly and saw Angelo walking out of the stacks, hand in hand with the girl that he seemed to have gotten so cozy with over the last couple days. He was smiling, which Brien thought was good, but his insides still clenched tightly at seeing his hand in someone else’s. Angelo looked around and their eyes met; his body stiffened and the smile disappeared from his face. Brien held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. He didn’t have the energy to wonder what was going on in Angelo’s mind, so he went back to reading his book.
“Go ahead,” Brien heard the girl say; he assumed that she was talking to Angelo. A moment later she sat down next to him. “Hi,” she said. Brien looked up from his book, his expression dubious. “I’m Jan.” He saw her hand extend as though she expected him to shake it. He turned to face her and actually took in her appearance for the first time. She was a resident of the plumper side of life with greasy hair and a smile on her fat face. But Brien thought he saw something else beneath that smile; something malicious.
“Brien,” he said, taking her hand against his better judgment. As soon as he had, he wished that he hadn’t. Something inside of him sprang to life and began clawing at the underside of his flesh, begging to be released so that it could tear her to pieces. The urge was so strong that Brien had become visibly uncomfortable. He could see that she was suppressing another smile.
“I’m Angelo’s girlfriend,” she said, enunciating the word as though she were talking to a toddler.
“I know who you are,” he said, ignoring the hissing, spitting creature that was still trying to escape.
“Good,” she said, smiling that smile that made Brien so desperately want to hit her. “So then we shouldn’t have any misunderstandings.”
“Misunderstandings about what, exactly?” Brien asked, his eyebrow raised.
“Angelo.” All traces of the smile that she once had were gone from her face. All that was left now was an expression that was deadly serious; one that almost would have scared Brien under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I’m going to say this one time, and one time only: stay away from him. You see him coming: you turn and go another way. If you hear him: bury your nose in a book. Don’t let him see you. Got it?”
Brien smiled. She sounded jealous, in his opinion, and he kinda liked it. He decided to play with her a little. “Why should I stay away from him?”
She looked mildly insulted. “Because I said so. And if you don’t,” she lowered her voice and leaned in as though she were about to share with him some secret of national importance. “I’ll cut your balls off.”
Brien couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “How would you get close enough to them to cut them off?”
Her expression went from insulted to furious. She clearly did not approve of being laughed at; her face was purpling with rage. “Just do what I said,” she said through gritted teeth.
Brien closed his book and stuffed it in his bag; he slung the bag over his shoulder and got up from the table, then he leaned in to her, but he didn’t bother lowering his voice. “I’m going to say this one time, and one time only.” He leaned in a little closer and she backed away a fraction of an inch, as though afraid that she was going to catch a contagious disease. “Make me.” He winked at her, smiled, and left her sitting at the table, looking dumbstruck. The creature roared in approval, but he could still feel its desire to tear her apart.
Angelo was waiting outside the entrance to the library; his head was resting against the faux brick wall. When he saw Brien he straightened up. Brien wasn’t smiling anymore. Now that he was face to face with Angelo he wanted to cry; but it was tears of anger that demanded to be shed.
“What did she─” Angelo began.
“If you wanted me to stay away from you,” Brien said, voice breaking. He wanted to hit Angelo so badly that his entire body was shaking with the effort to stifle the urge. “All you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to send your lap dog to deliver the message.”
“That’s not what─”
“Go to hell,” Brien said. He spun on his heel and stormed away.
Brien yawned deeply as he tried to focus enough to stay awake. He was sitting at one of the library’s long tables, attempting to read a book on HTML coding for his information systems class, but the words on the page merely passed through his brain, without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind them; he equated the experience with trying to teach a blind man sign language. A familiar scent wafted towards him on the wings of the air. He looked up hesitantly and saw Angelo walking out of the stacks, hand in hand with the girl that he seemed to have gotten so cozy with over the last couple days. He was smiling, which Brien thought was good, but his insides still clenched tightly at seeing his hand in someone else’s. Angelo looked around and their eyes met; his body stiffened and the smile disappeared from his face. Brien held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. He didn’t have the energy to wonder what was going on in Angelo’s mind, so he went back to reading his book.
“Go ahead,” Brien heard the girl say; he assumed that she was talking to Angelo. A moment later she sat down next to him. “Hi,” she said. Brien looked up from his book, his expression dubious. “I’m Jan.” He saw her hand extend as though she expected him to shake it. He turned to face her and actually took in her appearance for the first time. She was a resident of the plumper side of life with greasy hair and a smile on her fat face. But Brien thought he saw something else beneath that smile; something malicious.
“Brien,” he said, taking her hand against his better judgment. As soon as he had, he wished that he hadn’t. Something inside of him sprang to life and began clawing at the underside of his flesh, begging to be released so that it could tear her to pieces. The urge was so strong that Brien had become visibly uncomfortable. He could see that she was suppressing another smile.
“I’m Angelo’s girlfriend,” she said, enunciating the word as though she were talking to a toddler.
“I know who you are,” he said, ignoring the hissing, spitting creature that was still trying to escape.
“Good,” she said, smiling that smile that made Brien so desperately want to hit her. “So then we shouldn’t have any misunderstandings.”
“Misunderstandings about what, exactly?” Brien asked, his eyebrow raised.
“Angelo.” All traces of the smile that she once had were gone from her face. All that was left now was an expression that was deadly serious; one that almost would have scared Brien under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I’m going to say this one time, and one time only: stay away from him. You see him coming: you turn and go another way. If you hear him: bury your nose in a book. Don’t let him see you. Got it?”
Brien smiled. She sounded jealous, in his opinion, and he kinda liked it. He decided to play with her a little. “Why should I stay away from him?”
She looked mildly insulted. “Because I said so. And if you don’t,” she lowered her voice and leaned in as though she were about to share with him some secret of national importance. “I’ll cut your balls off.”
Brien couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “How would you get close enough to them to cut them off?”
Her expression went from insulted to furious. She clearly did not approve of being laughed at; her face was purpling with rage. “Just do what I said,” she said through gritted teeth.
Brien closed his book and stuffed it in his bag; he slung the bag over his shoulder and got up from the table, then he leaned in to her, but he didn’t bother lowering his voice. “I’m going to say this one time, and one time only.” He leaned in a little closer and she backed away a fraction of an inch, as though afraid that she was going to catch a contagious disease. “Make me.” He winked at her, smiled, and left her sitting at the table, looking dumbstruck. The creature roared in approval, but he could still feel its desire to tear her apart.
Angelo was waiting outside the entrance to the library; his head was resting against the faux brick wall. When he saw Brien he straightened up. Brien wasn’t smiling anymore. Now that he was face to face with Angelo he wanted to cry; but it was tears of anger that demanded to be shed.
“What did she─” Angelo began.
“If you wanted me to stay away from you,” Brien said, voice breaking. He wanted to hit Angelo so badly that his entire body was shaking with the effort to stifle the urge. “All you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to send your lap dog to deliver the message.”
“That’s not what─”
“Go to hell,” Brien said. He spun on his heel and stormed away.
24 April 2010
Unofficial story order for Twilight's Shadows.
My first collection of short stories, or "little nightmares", as I like to call them.
The Ice Cream Mask of Shame: A group of friends on Saturn have a run-in with a NASTY carton of plutonian ice cream.
The House on ShadowBird Lane: The last few co-workers remaining at the annual Christmas party for the Stephen Mosely Creative Publishing company find themselves trapped in a house with a killer on the loose.
Burn: A town is plagued by an unnatural foe for two weeks every summer. One girl must stand against the Burner before it destroys everything that she holds dear.
The Five: Five teenagers are all that stand in the way of the end of the world. Can they stop it before it's too late?
Midnight: A boy meets death on a walk through his neighborhood.
2 AM: A young man reflects on the loss of his lover as he waits for 2 AM.
An Insurrection: Nick has a killer living inside his head, trying to take over his body. Nick is fighting for what is his. But so is Nicholas. And Nicholas doesn't like to lose.
The Ice Cream Mask of Shame: A group of friends on Saturn have a run-in with a NASTY carton of plutonian ice cream.
The House on ShadowBird Lane: The last few co-workers remaining at the annual Christmas party for the Stephen Mosely Creative Publishing company find themselves trapped in a house with a killer on the loose.
Burn: A town is plagued by an unnatural foe for two weeks every summer. One girl must stand against the Burner before it destroys everything that she holds dear.
The Five: Five teenagers are all that stand in the way of the end of the world. Can they stop it before it's too late?
Midnight: A boy meets death on a walk through his neighborhood.
2 AM: A young man reflects on the loss of his lover as he waits for 2 AM.
An Insurrection: Nick has a killer living inside his head, trying to take over his body. Nick is fighting for what is his. But so is Nicholas. And Nicholas doesn't like to lose.
23 April 2010
Midnight
He felt heavy. Not the type of heavy that came from eating too much or even the type of heavy that came from being weighed down from too many objects. It was emotional; it was mental; it was...heavy.
The road stretched out before him as he walked and for the first time, he actually took the opportunity to notice the things around him. There were trees on his left; despite living in the suburbs of Maryland, it looked like it was a small forest, stretching upwards as far as he could see. On his right were houses. All but one of them had the curtains drawn and no light was coming from within; it was almost midnight, after all, according to his watch. The one house that had light in its front window also had a lady staring out at him. The lady couldn't be a day under ninety; even in the dim light from the window, he could see her face drooping with her age. His sudden audience made Steven feel mildly uncomfortable, so he walked on.
This was the first night in he couldn't tell how long—weeks, months, maybe? — that he had gone out on a walk. He couldn't remember why he had decided suddenly to take a walk, or even leaving the house; but one thing was for certain, and that was that it felt good to be out again. It felt right. Everything felt in place again. His head was finally clear for the first time since he had walked across the stage at graduation and taken his first steps out in to the "Real World". He could think clearly and his breath seemed to be coming to him easier than it had in a very long time.
He was coming up on an ancient looking building that he wasn't sure that he remembered; but it must have been there before, because buildings that old didn't just pop up out of the ground, did they? It looked like a dead end, anyway. He was about to turn around and head back home when he heard someone call his name. It sounded faint, almost as though it had been carried to him on the wind, and, a second later, he was sure that he had imagined it, but then he heard it again. Even though it had "Bad Idea" written all over it, Steven walked towards the building and whoever it was that was calling him.
As he got closer to the building, he could see that there was someone sitting on the steps leading up to the door. He could also see that there was a giant CONDEMNED sign hanging on a hook on the door. He could see the person sitting on the steps more clearly now. It was a female with long black hair that fell from her head in ringlets. He thought that she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't tell in the dark.
"Finally!" the female called, and he recognized it at once. "I thought you'd never get here!" Janice jumped up and ran up to him to hug him.
"Er," he said, hugging her back awkwardly, "was I supposed to be meeting you?"
She giggled and broke their embrace. It was a giggle that had given him butterflies as far back as he could remember. "Of course, you were! It was your idea, remember? You said that you couldn't wait anymore. What couldn't you wait for?" He wracked his brain, but couldn't remember talking to her at all.
"Um...I don't remember..." She gave him a puzzled look, then shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, well," she said. "If it's important enough, then you'll remember before long."
"Yeah."
She held out her hand. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."
Confused, he took her hand and the two of them walked back the way that he had come. The old lady watched them as they passed. "She's creepy," Steven said. Janice looked over at her.
"She looks kinda like my grandma," she said with that irresistible giggle. Steven laughed with her and the two of them turned and walked towards the trees.
"Why are we here?" Steven asked when they got to the base of what looked like the tallest of the trees.
"Oh, come on," Janice said. She jumped up and started climbing. After a few feet she looked back down and saw Steven still standing on the ground. "What's wrong?" she called down.
"Are you sure that this is safe?" he asked. "This tree looks like it's pretty tall."
"What, are you chicken?" she chided. "Bawk! Bawk, bawk bawk!" She threw back her head and laughed before climbing further. Steven laughed and mounted the tree before climbing after her.
When he got to the top, he saw her sitting on one of the branches, staring out at the world before her. He climbed out on the branch and took a seat next to her. "Wow," was all he could say. It seemed as though the entire world was laid out before him, and it was a beautiful world. He could see the lights from the mall and the various other city lights; the sight held him in awe. It was then that he realized that he was sitting on a tree branch. He felt lighter than he had when he had walked past this area the first time, but still too heavy to be sitting on a not so sturdy looking tree branch. He turned and looked at Janice. She was looking back at him, but there was something different about her. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but he knew that there was something. "What is this?" he asked her.
She smiled and touched a hand to his face. "It's what you're leaving behind," she said.
"What do you—" he started, but his question was cut short by a sharp pain in his chest. He cried out, clutching at his chest. It felt like there was a current running through him. The pain flared again, and this time he actually felt an electric shock. He cried out louder and clutched at his chest again. "What's happening?" he cried. Before Janice could answer, gravity got the better of him and he fell forward off of the branch. It felt like he was falling for miles, but he finally hit the ground; strangely enough, it hurt less than the electrical current running through his body. Janice was right behind him; she landed gracefully on her feet next to him and held out her hand. "What's happening to me?" he asked again.
"Just take my hand," she insisted. “There's one more thing that I have to show you.”
"What are you talking about?" he demanded and clenched his teeth together as a fresh surge of electricity ran through him. "Call an ambulance!"
"I can't," she said.
"Why not?"
"I'm just trying to make it easier. Please just take my hand."
He didn't understand how it would make this pain any easier to endure, but he took her hand and as soon as he did, lighting flashed through the sky. In that flash, he saw what she really was. In the flash he saw that it wasn't really Janice. It was something in a black robe. Instead of a face, there was nothing there but a skull; it's horrible, empty eye sockets were staring in to his eyes. And then the lighting was gone and the face was Janice's again. Before he could let go of the thing's hand, he was on his feet in what appeared to be a hospital room. He looked around and saw a doctor standing over a body, paddles in her hand, trying to bring the poor person on the table back to life. With a jolt of horror, he saw that the person lying on the table was him.
Everything crashed down on him in that moment; the feelings of hopelessness and despair that had plagued him over the last few months, the constant anger and mood swings, the desire to end it all, writing the letter to his parents to let them know of his decision and telling them that he just couldn't wait any more, and, lastly, swallowing the bottle of vicodin, and allowing himself to be swallowed by the perpetual darkness.
"What is this?" he demanded of the thing next to him that looked like Janice.
"It's the last night of your life," it said.
"What are you?"
The thing looked sad for a moment. "I'm a reaper," it said. "I'm cursed to walk the world, collecting the souls of the people so that they can move on.”
"Cursed?"
"Yes, cursed. Just as you will be."
"What? Why?"
"Because all suicides are cursed to wander the world, neither dead nor alive, collecting the souls of others and taking them to a destination that we will never get to see." A tear actually fell from her eye, then.
"If you're a reaper, then why do you look like that?"
"To make it easier on you." He heard the doctor sigh and he looked over at her.
"I'm calling it," the female doctor said. She looked at her watch. "Time of death: 11:58 pm." They pulled a sheet up over his head and he heard a wail from behind him. He wheeled around and saw his mother collapsing in to his father's arms, tears streaming down her face.
"I don't wanna do this," he said. "I wanna go back."
The reaper smiled, but it was a sad smile. "It's too late to go back," it said.
"You're in it for the long run."
"No!" he shouted and he started running. He ran from the hospital room and down the hospital hall and, finally out of the hospital itself.
He was back in front of the ancient looking building with the CONDEMNED sign on its door. The reaper was sitting on the steps once again. "You can't outrun death, Steven," she said sadly. "Especially when it's a death you brought on yourself."
"But why?" he asked, and then collapsed to the ground in a fit of tears.
"Only you can answer that question, Steven" she said. "And now, you've got all eternity to think about it. She kneeled down and lifted his chin. "A kiss to seal the deal," she said.
"And what if I don't?" he sobbed.
"Then you're stuck in this spot. Damned to haunt this lawn until the end of time."
His watched beeped to signal midnight, the time in which all spirits officially passed on into their next life. Still sobbing, he allowed her to kiss him, and, in doing so, passed in to his role in eternity.
The road stretched out before him as he walked and for the first time, he actually took the opportunity to notice the things around him. There were trees on his left; despite living in the suburbs of Maryland, it looked like it was a small forest, stretching upwards as far as he could see. On his right were houses. All but one of them had the curtains drawn and no light was coming from within; it was almost midnight, after all, according to his watch. The one house that had light in its front window also had a lady staring out at him. The lady couldn't be a day under ninety; even in the dim light from the window, he could see her face drooping with her age. His sudden audience made Steven feel mildly uncomfortable, so he walked on.
This was the first night in he couldn't tell how long—weeks, months, maybe? — that he had gone out on a walk. He couldn't remember why he had decided suddenly to take a walk, or even leaving the house; but one thing was for certain, and that was that it felt good to be out again. It felt right. Everything felt in place again. His head was finally clear for the first time since he had walked across the stage at graduation and taken his first steps out in to the "Real World". He could think clearly and his breath seemed to be coming to him easier than it had in a very long time.
He was coming up on an ancient looking building that he wasn't sure that he remembered; but it must have been there before, because buildings that old didn't just pop up out of the ground, did they? It looked like a dead end, anyway. He was about to turn around and head back home when he heard someone call his name. It sounded faint, almost as though it had been carried to him on the wind, and, a second later, he was sure that he had imagined it, but then he heard it again. Even though it had "Bad Idea" written all over it, Steven walked towards the building and whoever it was that was calling him.
As he got closer to the building, he could see that there was someone sitting on the steps leading up to the door. He could also see that there was a giant CONDEMNED sign hanging on a hook on the door. He could see the person sitting on the steps more clearly now. It was a female with long black hair that fell from her head in ringlets. He thought that she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't tell in the dark.
"Finally!" the female called, and he recognized it at once. "I thought you'd never get here!" Janice jumped up and ran up to him to hug him.
"Er," he said, hugging her back awkwardly, "was I supposed to be meeting you?"
She giggled and broke their embrace. It was a giggle that had given him butterflies as far back as he could remember. "Of course, you were! It was your idea, remember? You said that you couldn't wait anymore. What couldn't you wait for?" He wracked his brain, but couldn't remember talking to her at all.
"Um...I don't remember..." She gave him a puzzled look, then shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, well," she said. "If it's important enough, then you'll remember before long."
"Yeah."
She held out her hand. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."
Confused, he took her hand and the two of them walked back the way that he had come. The old lady watched them as they passed. "She's creepy," Steven said. Janice looked over at her.
"She looks kinda like my grandma," she said with that irresistible giggle. Steven laughed with her and the two of them turned and walked towards the trees.
"Why are we here?" Steven asked when they got to the base of what looked like the tallest of the trees.
"Oh, come on," Janice said. She jumped up and started climbing. After a few feet she looked back down and saw Steven still standing on the ground. "What's wrong?" she called down.
"Are you sure that this is safe?" he asked. "This tree looks like it's pretty tall."
"What, are you chicken?" she chided. "Bawk! Bawk, bawk bawk!" She threw back her head and laughed before climbing further. Steven laughed and mounted the tree before climbing after her.
When he got to the top, he saw her sitting on one of the branches, staring out at the world before her. He climbed out on the branch and took a seat next to her. "Wow," was all he could say. It seemed as though the entire world was laid out before him, and it was a beautiful world. He could see the lights from the mall and the various other city lights; the sight held him in awe. It was then that he realized that he was sitting on a tree branch. He felt lighter than he had when he had walked past this area the first time, but still too heavy to be sitting on a not so sturdy looking tree branch. He turned and looked at Janice. She was looking back at him, but there was something different about her. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but he knew that there was something. "What is this?" he asked her.
She smiled and touched a hand to his face. "It's what you're leaving behind," she said.
"What do you—" he started, but his question was cut short by a sharp pain in his chest. He cried out, clutching at his chest. It felt like there was a current running through him. The pain flared again, and this time he actually felt an electric shock. He cried out louder and clutched at his chest again. "What's happening?" he cried. Before Janice could answer, gravity got the better of him and he fell forward off of the branch. It felt like he was falling for miles, but he finally hit the ground; strangely enough, it hurt less than the electrical current running through his body. Janice was right behind him; she landed gracefully on her feet next to him and held out her hand. "What's happening to me?" he asked again.
"Just take my hand," she insisted. “There's one more thing that I have to show you.”
"What are you talking about?" he demanded and clenched his teeth together as a fresh surge of electricity ran through him. "Call an ambulance!"
"I can't," she said.
"Why not?"
"I'm just trying to make it easier. Please just take my hand."
He didn't understand how it would make this pain any easier to endure, but he took her hand and as soon as he did, lighting flashed through the sky. In that flash, he saw what she really was. In the flash he saw that it wasn't really Janice. It was something in a black robe. Instead of a face, there was nothing there but a skull; it's horrible, empty eye sockets were staring in to his eyes. And then the lighting was gone and the face was Janice's again. Before he could let go of the thing's hand, he was on his feet in what appeared to be a hospital room. He looked around and saw a doctor standing over a body, paddles in her hand, trying to bring the poor person on the table back to life. With a jolt of horror, he saw that the person lying on the table was him.
Everything crashed down on him in that moment; the feelings of hopelessness and despair that had plagued him over the last few months, the constant anger and mood swings, the desire to end it all, writing the letter to his parents to let them know of his decision and telling them that he just couldn't wait any more, and, lastly, swallowing the bottle of vicodin, and allowing himself to be swallowed by the perpetual darkness.
"What is this?" he demanded of the thing next to him that looked like Janice.
"It's the last night of your life," it said.
"What are you?"
The thing looked sad for a moment. "I'm a reaper," it said. "I'm cursed to walk the world, collecting the souls of the people so that they can move on.”
"Cursed?"
"Yes, cursed. Just as you will be."
"What? Why?"
"Because all suicides are cursed to wander the world, neither dead nor alive, collecting the souls of others and taking them to a destination that we will never get to see." A tear actually fell from her eye, then.
"If you're a reaper, then why do you look like that?"
"To make it easier on you." He heard the doctor sigh and he looked over at her.
"I'm calling it," the female doctor said. She looked at her watch. "Time of death: 11:58 pm." They pulled a sheet up over his head and he heard a wail from behind him. He wheeled around and saw his mother collapsing in to his father's arms, tears streaming down her face.
"I don't wanna do this," he said. "I wanna go back."
The reaper smiled, but it was a sad smile. "It's too late to go back," it said.
"You're in it for the long run."
"No!" he shouted and he started running. He ran from the hospital room and down the hospital hall and, finally out of the hospital itself.
He was back in front of the ancient looking building with the CONDEMNED sign on its door. The reaper was sitting on the steps once again. "You can't outrun death, Steven," she said sadly. "Especially when it's a death you brought on yourself."
"But why?" he asked, and then collapsed to the ground in a fit of tears.
"Only you can answer that question, Steven" she said. "And now, you've got all eternity to think about it. She kneeled down and lifted his chin. "A kiss to seal the deal," she said.
"And what if I don't?" he sobbed.
"Then you're stuck in this spot. Damned to haunt this lawn until the end of time."
His watched beeped to signal midnight, the time in which all spirits officially passed on into their next life. Still sobbing, he allowed her to kiss him, and, in doing so, passed in to his role in eternity.
The Little Red King
It didn’t take very long. Time flowed differently in the real world than it did in whatever place they had been trapped in; that much was obvious. One look at the news was enough to tell Nancy, Jamie, Kyle and Jessie that one of the escaped demons had already found its way into a vessel. In the time that they had been gone, the country’s leader had changed considerably. In the beginning, he had been a fair and just man, with most of the Americans backing any decision that he made. But things were different now. In a short amount of time, according to the news anchor, the president had become a ruthless man who was willing to do anything to get what he wanted and readily killed anyone who stood in his way.
“Citizens are living in a state of fear, akin to that which was created by the likes of Hitler and Stal─” There was a sickening cracking sound and the anchor’s head twisted all the way around. He shuddered only once, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he slumped over onto the news counter, dead. The blood curdling shriek of the woman next to him pierced the air like a dagger cutting through flesh.
Jessie looked away from the television, sickened. Jamie turned off the set. He looked better than he had, but by no means did he look like he was okay. He was in all black this afternoon and his eyes still had the red hew of a person who had only recently finished crying. It was nearly five-thirty in the afternoon and the four of them were all sitting in Jamie’s living room, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.
“It makes sense,” Kyle said.
“What?” Jamie said, looking over at him.
“Go straight to the head. If you want to be in the position of power, go for the most powerful man in the country.”
Nancy scoffed. “What, you think they’re watching the elections down in hell? Rooting for who they want to win? How would they know who the most powerful person in the country is?”
Jessie looked at her. “Do you always have to be so negative about everything?”
“Get real. What, you think there are demonic factions down there. Or, even better: a demonic hierarchy?”
“Duh!” Kyle said. “Ever heard of Lucifer?”
“Please! Lucifer is as much of a myth as the Easter Bunny, or Santa.”
“How do you know he’s a myth?” Jessie asked.
“How do you know he’s not? I mean, look around. What proof is there that he really exists?”
Jessie gestured at the screen. “Um, did you not see the guy’s head just twist all the way around like he was some kind of a rag doll?”
“Any demon could have done that.”
“You know what? Whatever.” Jessie turned on the couch and stared resolutely at the wall.
“How do we tell who’s a demon and who’s not?” Jamie asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know,” Kyle said. “But we’re gonna have to figure it out before─”
“Do you guys feel that?” Nancy asked. For the first time in what seemed like days, the venom was gone from her voice and she had a look of genuine curiosity on her face.
“Feel what?” Kyle asked.
“Things just feel…different,” she said. “Darker, somehow.”
“Well,” Jessie said without ever looking away from the wall,” it could be all the demons that are running around.”
Nancy ignored her. “I’m serious. It feels like things just took a really bad turn.”
“Because things weren’t bad already.”
Nancy’s eyes clenched shut and she grimaced in apparent pain. “I need air,” she said and got up and ran for the door. They heard her throw open the door and then her own scream tore through the air. They all got up and ran to the door. The scene in front of them told them everything that they needed to know.
“Citizens are living in a state of fear, akin to that which was created by the likes of Hitler and Stal─” There was a sickening cracking sound and the anchor’s head twisted all the way around. He shuddered only once, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he slumped over onto the news counter, dead. The blood curdling shriek of the woman next to him pierced the air like a dagger cutting through flesh.
Jessie looked away from the television, sickened. Jamie turned off the set. He looked better than he had, but by no means did he look like he was okay. He was in all black this afternoon and his eyes still had the red hew of a person who had only recently finished crying. It was nearly five-thirty in the afternoon and the four of them were all sitting in Jamie’s living room, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.
“It makes sense,” Kyle said.
“What?” Jamie said, looking over at him.
“Go straight to the head. If you want to be in the position of power, go for the most powerful man in the country.”
Nancy scoffed. “What, you think they’re watching the elections down in hell? Rooting for who they want to win? How would they know who the most powerful person in the country is?”
Jessie looked at her. “Do you always have to be so negative about everything?”
“Get real. What, you think there are demonic factions down there. Or, even better: a demonic hierarchy?”
“Duh!” Kyle said. “Ever heard of Lucifer?”
“Please! Lucifer is as much of a myth as the Easter Bunny, or Santa.”
“How do you know he’s a myth?” Jessie asked.
“How do you know he’s not? I mean, look around. What proof is there that he really exists?”
Jessie gestured at the screen. “Um, did you not see the guy’s head just twist all the way around like he was some kind of a rag doll?”
“Any demon could have done that.”
“You know what? Whatever.” Jessie turned on the couch and stared resolutely at the wall.
“How do we tell who’s a demon and who’s not?” Jamie asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know,” Kyle said. “But we’re gonna have to figure it out before─”
“Do you guys feel that?” Nancy asked. For the first time in what seemed like days, the venom was gone from her voice and she had a look of genuine curiosity on her face.
“Feel what?” Kyle asked.
“Things just feel…different,” she said. “Darker, somehow.”
“Well,” Jessie said without ever looking away from the wall,” it could be all the demons that are running around.”
Nancy ignored her. “I’m serious. It feels like things just took a really bad turn.”
“Because things weren’t bad already.”
Nancy’s eyes clenched shut and she grimaced in apparent pain. “I need air,” she said and got up and ran for the door. They heard her throw open the door and then her own scream tore through the air. They all got up and ran to the door. The scene in front of them told them everything that they needed to know.
22 April 2010
A new beginning to an old tale.
Tiffany Jennings sat in the living room of the Wagner house, reading a rather interesting novel about an island of the coast of Florida. She was babysitting young Matthew Wagner while his parents were out to dinner. The light from the single lamp cast an eerie glow over the room, and provided the perfect atmosphere for the creepy story that she was reading. She was getting so involved in the book that she jumped when Matthew's voice drifted down the stairs.
“Tiffany? Tiffany, please come up here, I'm scared.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. He would be afraid of his own shadow, she thought to herself, chuckling. But she wasn't paid to think, so she bookmarked her page, got up and made her way up for the stairs.
When she entered the front room, her heart skipped a beat. The front door was sitting open. It was only open a few inches, but that was still more than enough for someone to have slipped inside. Or, someone could have been attempting to close it, and thought better of it, assuming that it would make too much noise. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run away with her. She shut the door, locked it and started her trek up the stairs
She paused outside of Matthew's room. “Matt, what is it?” she asked. No answer came from within, so she slowly opened the door and peaked inside. Matthew was sound asleep in his bed, curled up in his Superman blankets and sucking his thumb. Tiffany thought for a moment on the oddity of the situation and then shut the door; she refused to let her wild imagination have its way this evening. She made her way back downstairs. Maybe she'd just been hearing things. That was the most likely answer, she believed. It was usually the case in large houses such as the Wagner place.
As she re-entered the living room, she tucked her black hair behind her ears and sat down on the couch. She opened her book and no sooner had she read the first sentence than the phone rang. “Hello?” She answered. The other line sounded grainy and she could hear a faint whispering issuing from it. “Hello?” She repeated.
“Are you alone?” a voice whispered from the other end of the phone.
She laughed to herself. “No, I'm not alone,” she said sarcastically. “I've got an eight year old and guard dog protecting me.”
“Do you really?”
“Sure do, Jeff.”
There was silence. Then, “Who's Jeff?”
A chill ran down Tiffany's spine. The volume of the voice was growing, and it no longer sounded like the whisper of Jeff Donnely. It now sounded like the voice of something angry. Something not quite human. “Who is this?” She asked.
“Don't worry about that,” the voice said. “Are you all alone in that great big house?” Tiffany did not respond. “It's okay. I know that you are. Well, don't worry about that, Tiffy. I'll be there real soon.” And before Tiffany could say anything, the line went dead. She pushed the off button.
She pushed the on button and place the phone to her ear, fully prepared to call 911. There was only one problem. The phones were really dead. Her imagination started up, full speed and the fist thing that came to her mind was the old urban legend about the babysitter and the man upstairs. She convinced herself so thoroughly that things actually started falling into place in her mind. The open door, the strange voice from the sleeping boy, the mysterious phone call. She had to check on Matt. She got up from the couch, her book toppling to the floor, and rushed to the front room so that she could get upstairs.
The front door was open yet again, but this time, there was someone standing in the entryway. The person was tall, dressed in a very neat black suit with a utility belt around the waist, and wearing a cat mask that Tiffany recognized as coming from the Halloween store up the road. Her fear paralyzed her for only a moment, and then she was running in the other direction, and the intruder was right on her tail. The intruder pushed Tiffany and she tripped over the low glass table in the middle of the room. Her leg hurting quite badly, Tiffany backed up until she was pressed against the couch.
“Please don't hurt me,” Tiffany sobbed as her assailant drew a rather large ax from his utility belt. He raised it in the air and, before she could mutter so much as another syllable, began chopping away at the young babysitter. Tiffany's head parted company with her body and rolled across the floor as lights rolled across the living room ceiling. The killer returned the ax to the utility belt and exited through the back door.
“Why is the door open?” Mrs. Wagner's voice came from the outside stoop. “Tiffany? Are you still─” She entered the living room and let out a horrified scream as her eyes found the mangled remains of once sixteen year old babysitter Tiffany Jennings.
“Tiffany? Tiffany, please come up here, I'm scared.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. He would be afraid of his own shadow, she thought to herself, chuckling. But she wasn't paid to think, so she bookmarked her page, got up and made her way up for the stairs.
When she entered the front room, her heart skipped a beat. The front door was sitting open. It was only open a few inches, but that was still more than enough for someone to have slipped inside. Or, someone could have been attempting to close it, and thought better of it, assuming that it would make too much noise. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run away with her. She shut the door, locked it and started her trek up the stairs
She paused outside of Matthew's room. “Matt, what is it?” she asked. No answer came from within, so she slowly opened the door and peaked inside. Matthew was sound asleep in his bed, curled up in his Superman blankets and sucking his thumb. Tiffany thought for a moment on the oddity of the situation and then shut the door; she refused to let her wild imagination have its way this evening. She made her way back downstairs. Maybe she'd just been hearing things. That was the most likely answer, she believed. It was usually the case in large houses such as the Wagner place.
As she re-entered the living room, she tucked her black hair behind her ears and sat down on the couch. She opened her book and no sooner had she read the first sentence than the phone rang. “Hello?” She answered. The other line sounded grainy and she could hear a faint whispering issuing from it. “Hello?” She repeated.
“Are you alone?” a voice whispered from the other end of the phone.
She laughed to herself. “No, I'm not alone,” she said sarcastically. “I've got an eight year old and guard dog protecting me.”
“Do you really?”
“Sure do, Jeff.”
There was silence. Then, “Who's Jeff?”
A chill ran down Tiffany's spine. The volume of the voice was growing, and it no longer sounded like the whisper of Jeff Donnely. It now sounded like the voice of something angry. Something not quite human. “Who is this?” She asked.
“Don't worry about that,” the voice said. “Are you all alone in that great big house?” Tiffany did not respond. “It's okay. I know that you are. Well, don't worry about that, Tiffy. I'll be there real soon.” And before Tiffany could say anything, the line went dead. She pushed the off button.
She pushed the on button and place the phone to her ear, fully prepared to call 911. There was only one problem. The phones were really dead. Her imagination started up, full speed and the fist thing that came to her mind was the old urban legend about the babysitter and the man upstairs. She convinced herself so thoroughly that things actually started falling into place in her mind. The open door, the strange voice from the sleeping boy, the mysterious phone call. She had to check on Matt. She got up from the couch, her book toppling to the floor, and rushed to the front room so that she could get upstairs.
The front door was open yet again, but this time, there was someone standing in the entryway. The person was tall, dressed in a very neat black suit with a utility belt around the waist, and wearing a cat mask that Tiffany recognized as coming from the Halloween store up the road. Her fear paralyzed her for only a moment, and then she was running in the other direction, and the intruder was right on her tail. The intruder pushed Tiffany and she tripped over the low glass table in the middle of the room. Her leg hurting quite badly, Tiffany backed up until she was pressed against the couch.
“Please don't hurt me,” Tiffany sobbed as her assailant drew a rather large ax from his utility belt. He raised it in the air and, before she could mutter so much as another syllable, began chopping away at the young babysitter. Tiffany's head parted company with her body and rolled across the floor as lights rolled across the living room ceiling. The killer returned the ax to the utility belt and exited through the back door.
“Why is the door open?” Mrs. Wagner's voice came from the outside stoop. “Tiffany? Are you still─” She entered the living room and let out a horrified scream as her eyes found the mangled remains of once sixteen year old babysitter Tiffany Jennings.
Potential Idea
A short synopses for a story I have in mind called "Walk Among Us".
The first murder happened in broad daylight. The victim: a teenage girl with no history of violence and no apparent enemies. The second was in a school auditorium. The victim was found lying face down on the stage, the body completely drained of blood. An eerie note is left at the scene, promising that the murders have only just begun.
The town of Water’s Eye is in the grips of fear as a killer stalks the streets, picking off teens one by one, each body bled dry. The police are stumped, and as if the dead teens weren’t enough, corpses start disappearing from the cemetery. Is this the work of a single individual? Is there a dangerous new cult in town? Or are there forces far more sinister at work?
Thoughts????
The first murder happened in broad daylight. The victim: a teenage girl with no history of violence and no apparent enemies. The second was in a school auditorium. The victim was found lying face down on the stage, the body completely drained of blood. An eerie note is left at the scene, promising that the murders have only just begun.
The town of Water’s Eye is in the grips of fear as a killer stalks the streets, picking off teens one by one, each body bled dry. The police are stumped, and as if the dead teens weren’t enough, corpses start disappearing from the cemetery. Is this the work of a single individual? Is there a dangerous new cult in town? Or are there forces far more sinister at work?
Thoughts????
19 April 2010
Catalyst
Brien stared out the window as the impala traveled further and further up the road. He had hoped that not looking at the person in the driver's seat would calm him somehow, but that was not the case. If anything, not looking in his direction made Brien want Angelo even more. He knew that what he was feeling was wrong, but he just didn't give a damn.
The feelings had started to develop weeks ago, when Brien had accidentally walked into the bathroom and caught Angelo relieving himself in the shower. Things had been awkward at first, but in a couple days, Angelo had seemed to have forgotten the incident, while Brien was left with thoughts and feelings that he had never before experienced. Several times over the last few nights, Brien had woken up sweating and panting after having some erotic dream about Angelo. And what was worse, the dreams were only getting more vivid as time went on.
He could feel Angelo's eyes on him now. He prepared himself for the inevitable questioning. "What's going on with you?" Angelo asked. His voice sounded slightly hoarse from lack of use. Almost at once, an image popped into Brien's head of him being the reason for Angelo's voice sounding so husky.
"What do you mean?"
"You've barely said a word all day. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on, Angelo. I'm just...tired. That's all."
"You've never been too tired to talk to me before."
"Angelo, I'm fine, ok? Just drop it."
Angelo was silent for a moment. "Is this about what you saw?"
Brien's breath caught in his throat; he was not expecting Angelo to ever bring that up. "What are you talking about?" Brien asked, trying to sound casual.
"Don't play stupid with me, Brien, you know exactly what I'm talking about."
"I don't wanna talk about that."
"We have to."
"Why?"
"Because if it's gonna make you be weird, then it's something that we need to talk about."
"Since when do you want to talk about anything that doesn't concern you screwing some bimbo?" There was a hint of malice in his voice and Angelo picked up on it.
"What the hell is going on with you?"
"You're with a different girl every night, and there's something going on with me?"
The car skidded to a halt in the dirt on the side of the road. Angelo looked over at Brien, who was still looking resolutely out the window. "Since when do you care who I'm with?"
"Face it Angelo, you're a slut."
"You're not talking to me because I'm a slut?" Angelo asked, and Brien could tell simply by the tone of his voice that he was confused as hell.
"You just don't get it." How could he possibly tell Angelo how he felt? How could he find words to express the fact that he wanted to rip every shred of clothing from Angelo's body and make him fuck him until Judgement Day?
"Brien—"
"Don't."
"Brien, I—"
"Can we please not talk about this?" Brien asked, watching a small possum fishing a pebble out of the dirt.
"Look at me."
"No."
"Brien look at me."
"I said no, Angelo."
"I'm not asking you," Angelo said, reaching over and grabbing hold of Brien's chin. Brien swatted the hand away with all the force that he could muster and finally turned to look at the object of his affection.
His breath caught in his throat. At this moment, Angelo looked sexier than Brien had ever remembered him. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from the summer heat, his lips looked full, and his eyes were full of concern. Something took hold of Brien, and he took complete and total leave of his sanity. He grabbed Angelo's face and kissed him so fiercely that both of them saw stars. For a moment, Angelo fought it, and then something fell in to place in his head. This is what was missing.
Whenever he would kiss one of the random girls that he was with, it felt empty and meaningless. This kiss made him feel whole and pure, like it was the kiss that he had been waiting for all his life. Finally he gave in and before either one knew what was happening, both tongues were fighting for dominance. Before Brien could stop himself, his seat belt was off and his hand was roaming all over Angelo's body.
For once, Brien felt like he was doing something right. His hand snaked its way into Angelo's pants and grabbed hold of Angelo's cock and Angelo's eyes snapped open and he broke the kiss at last. He wrenched Brien's hand out of his pants, opened the door and practically tumbled out of the car.
"Angelo," Brien panted, opening his own door and climbing out of the car. He ran around the front and saw Angelo lying against the car. Brien extended a hand to try to help him up.
"No," Angelo half panted, half shouted. "Stay away from me!"
"Angelo, what are you—"
"Stay the fuck away from me!" Angelo shouted, backing away from him.
Brien stood rooted to the spot, slowly understanding what was going on. "Angelo, no."
Angelo got up and backed away further, his mouth hanging open and the confusion and disgust of what he'd just done showing quite plainly on his face.
The tears were starting to well up behind Brien's eyes. "Angelo, please," Brien said, shaking his head slowly, his voice breaking. "Please don't do this."
"What are you?"
"I'm still me," Brien said, the tears streaming freely from his eyes. He took another step forward.
Angelo stood his ground this time. His face was hard and his jaw was set; Brien didn't know if he had ever seen him so mad. "If you ever touch me or my cock again I will beat the shit out of you. Do you understand me?"
"Angelo..."
"I said do you UNDERSTAND me?!"
"Yes!" Brien said, weeping harder than ever. Through is tears, Brien could hear Angelo walking away. The next thing he knew, he heard the car door slam and
Angelo speeding off.
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