Chapter One: Two Minutes To Midnight
Chapter Two: The End of An Era
Chapter Three: A New Beginning
Chapter Four: Trapped In The Past
Chapter Five: A Present Choice
30 May 2010
23 May 2010
Blurb for My Only Wish (This Year)
Tis the season for love in Brien and Angelo's new story.
Brien Michaels only wants one thing for Christmas: his brand new boyfriend Angelo home with him. But Angelo’s parents are whisking him off to visit his grandmother in Minnesota for the holidays. Angelo wants to stay for Brien, but he can’t go against his parents. What are the two young lovers to do?
Brien Michaels only wants one thing for Christmas: his brand new boyfriend Angelo home with him. But Angelo’s parents are whisking him off to visit his grandmother in Minnesota for the holidays. Angelo wants to stay for Brien, but he can’t go against his parents. What are the two young lovers to do?
17 May 2010
Blurb for Darkness
Brien Jeffries’ world comes to a sudden and screeching halt when Angelo, his boyfriend of over a year dumps him without warning and without explanation. His best friend Renee is quick to try to cheer him up by setting him up with the very attractive, very cocky Kirk, who Brien falls for almost immediately. But the ghost of Angelo is always lingering in the back of his mind, sabotaging any possibility of a future Brien and Kirk may have. After a late night visit from Angelo leaves Brien reeling and confused, he discovers that the reason behind the break-up is more shocking and terrifying than he could have ever imagined.
02 May 2010
2 am
It's only been three weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. There are nights when I just lay awake, looking at the ceiling. Those are the nights that I prefer. When I'm not laying awake, I'm sleeping. And when I'm sleeping, I'm dreaming. Actually, dreaming is putting it lightly. I've had nothing but nightmares since that night; and they're always the same. They're always haunted by the images of Dean twisting and contorting on the floor, being ripped apart by something that I can't see.
I feel the tears welling up again, promising to overflow, so I tear myself away from the memory and force it back into its cage. After I'm certain that the tears won't fall, I look at the clock. It's 1:55. I don't have a lot of time. I get up from my chair and move over to the window. I peel back the curtain and am certain that I'm losing my mind. There's a thick layer of snow covering the ground, and there are more thick, white flakes falling by the second.
Another memory fights its way, unwanted, to the front of my mind. Dean and I are standing outside in the snow, my eye black and my nose bloody; I can't be any older than seventeen. He's holding me, trying to console me after my drunken father has taken out all of his aggression on me. He pulls away and looks me dead in the eye. He promises that things are gonna be okay and he brushes snowflakes out of my hair. Then he freezes and just kinda stares at me, like he's trying to take inventory of everything on my face. I see confusion behind his eyes, but it doesn't show on his face. He starts moving in slowly and something in the back of my mind tells me that he's about to kiss me, but I don't believe it; Dean would never do that, after all. Then there's no denying it, and he's still holding me, so I can't pull away. His lips touch mine and, as soon as they do, there's this weird feeling going down my spine and my lips feel like they're on fire, but in a good way. I'm rooted to the spot by the electricity that's running through us, and then he's really kissing me. All thoughts are wiped from my mind. All the pain is gone and its just me and Dean. One thought comes to mind. I'm going to be addicted to these kisses until the day I die.
I feel moisture on my cheek and it jolts me out of the past. The tears have finally arrived. I turn away from the snow—away from that memory—and go to the bathroom. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light after sitting in darkness for so long. Once I can see properly again, I walk to the sink and splash water on my face. The mirror above the sink is cracked, but it still does not lie. I look like crap. A breeze circulates through the room from the window that I left open during my attempt at a shower. My skin tingles from the cold air and I look down at my arm.
I'm thrust into another memory. This one is Dean using his finger to trace his name and various other letters on my skin. He calls them his love letters. I can't take it anymore. I run from the bathroom and back into the darkness of the main room. I flop back down in the chair and exhale. It terrifies me how much that sounded like one of Dean's breaths; how everything that I say sounds like Him. I look at the clock. It's 1:59. Will tonight be like the others? I move to the window again and peer out of it. The snow is coming down harder than I've ever seen it before. There's a car approaching in the distance. How can anyone drive in weather like this?
A pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist and hold me tightly. They're strong and muscular and I know that my time has come at last. Without looking at the clock, I know that it's finally 2 am. Dean has finally come back to me, even if it's just for this one minute. "Come with me." I feel the breath on my ear and it sends shivers down my spine. I turn, ready to kiss those perfect lips and I stop when I catch sight of his face. This is the first time it's been like this. It's mangled and bloody and he looks so sad. I back away slowly, horror flooding me at the sight of my love's beautiful face so horribly disfigured.
I hear sirens and turn to look out the window again. The car that was approaching is speeding down the street with half a dozen police cars after it. I turn back and Dean is gone. The clock reads 2:01. He always calls my name as he goes and I can feel my heart shatter as I realize that I must have missed that call. His new face flashes in my head again and bile rises in my throat. I have to save him.
I run to the door, throw it open and dash out into the night. The tears are falling so thickly by now that, when I look up, I can't tell the difference between the street lights and the stars. I can, however, see the seven cars rushing down the road at top speed. I run out in front of the first one and all seven hit me. Someone once said that when the music hits, you feel no pain. I wish I had music right now.
I'm coming, Dean. I'm coming to save you.
I feel the tears welling up again, promising to overflow, so I tear myself away from the memory and force it back into its cage. After I'm certain that the tears won't fall, I look at the clock. It's 1:55. I don't have a lot of time. I get up from my chair and move over to the window. I peel back the curtain and am certain that I'm losing my mind. There's a thick layer of snow covering the ground, and there are more thick, white flakes falling by the second.
Another memory fights its way, unwanted, to the front of my mind. Dean and I are standing outside in the snow, my eye black and my nose bloody; I can't be any older than seventeen. He's holding me, trying to console me after my drunken father has taken out all of his aggression on me. He pulls away and looks me dead in the eye. He promises that things are gonna be okay and he brushes snowflakes out of my hair. Then he freezes and just kinda stares at me, like he's trying to take inventory of everything on my face. I see confusion behind his eyes, but it doesn't show on his face. He starts moving in slowly and something in the back of my mind tells me that he's about to kiss me, but I don't believe it; Dean would never do that, after all. Then there's no denying it, and he's still holding me, so I can't pull away. His lips touch mine and, as soon as they do, there's this weird feeling going down my spine and my lips feel like they're on fire, but in a good way. I'm rooted to the spot by the electricity that's running through us, and then he's really kissing me. All thoughts are wiped from my mind. All the pain is gone and its just me and Dean. One thought comes to mind. I'm going to be addicted to these kisses until the day I die.
I feel moisture on my cheek and it jolts me out of the past. The tears have finally arrived. I turn away from the snow—away from that memory—and go to the bathroom. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light after sitting in darkness for so long. Once I can see properly again, I walk to the sink and splash water on my face. The mirror above the sink is cracked, but it still does not lie. I look like crap. A breeze circulates through the room from the window that I left open during my attempt at a shower. My skin tingles from the cold air and I look down at my arm.
I'm thrust into another memory. This one is Dean using his finger to trace his name and various other letters on my skin. He calls them his love letters. I can't take it anymore. I run from the bathroom and back into the darkness of the main room. I flop back down in the chair and exhale. It terrifies me how much that sounded like one of Dean's breaths; how everything that I say sounds like Him. I look at the clock. It's 1:59. Will tonight be like the others? I move to the window again and peer out of it. The snow is coming down harder than I've ever seen it before. There's a car approaching in the distance. How can anyone drive in weather like this?
A pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist and hold me tightly. They're strong and muscular and I know that my time has come at last. Without looking at the clock, I know that it's finally 2 am. Dean has finally come back to me, even if it's just for this one minute. "Come with me." I feel the breath on my ear and it sends shivers down my spine. I turn, ready to kiss those perfect lips and I stop when I catch sight of his face. This is the first time it's been like this. It's mangled and bloody and he looks so sad. I back away slowly, horror flooding me at the sight of my love's beautiful face so horribly disfigured.
I hear sirens and turn to look out the window again. The car that was approaching is speeding down the street with half a dozen police cars after it. I turn back and Dean is gone. The clock reads 2:01. He always calls my name as he goes and I can feel my heart shatter as I realize that I must have missed that call. His new face flashes in my head again and bile rises in my throat. I have to save him.
I run to the door, throw it open and dash out into the night. The tears are falling so thickly by now that, when I look up, I can't tell the difference between the street lights and the stars. I can, however, see the seven cars rushing down the road at top speed. I run out in front of the first one and all seven hit me. Someone once said that when the music hits, you feel no pain. I wish I had music right now.
I'm coming, Dean. I'm coming to save you.
A world without parents
The day dawned like any other summer day. Nobody considered there to be anything odd in the air when they woke up on the fifteenth of July, they just got up and went about their normal morning rituals. It was Saturday morning so most of the kids were already laying in the living room floor, watching cartoons by the time their parents came down and started breakfast; most of the teenagers were still asleep.
Almost everyone in town was outside, enjoying a cookout organized by the local church when the Reaping came. At exactly noon, an uncharacteristically cold wind blew through the town of Water’s Eye, Maryland, and all of the adults in the town dropped dead. Teenagers stood, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Children burst into tears, because even though they didn’t understand what was going on, they somehow knew that their parents would never be there to comfort them again.
Almost everyone in town was outside, enjoying a cookout organized by the local church when the Reaping came. At exactly noon, an uncharacteristically cold wind blew through the town of Water’s Eye, Maryland, and all of the adults in the town dropped dead. Teenagers stood, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Children burst into tears, because even though they didn’t understand what was going on, they somehow knew that their parents would never be there to comfort them again.
29 April 2010
Love at First Sight
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.
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.
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.
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