Swing: A Psychopathy (Perfected & Extended)
By German Alcala
Copyright 2012 German Alcala
Published at Smashwords
SWING
A Psychopathy
By
GERMAN ALCALA
Forward:
Dear Reader,
This book is centered purely on graphic rape, murder, suicide, drug abuse, child abuse, pedophilia, and insanity. I have only four points to make:
Firstly: If you keep reading I warn you of what the book holds. I pull out my first amendment right to freedom of speech to defend to the contents of this book. Without freedom of speech titles such as Lolita, Romeo and Juliet, The Color Purple, A Clockwork Orange, The Kite Runner, Middle Ground, Memoirs of a Geisha, Norwegian Wood, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, and The Canterbury Tales would not exist among countless others.
Secondly: If you are aroused by this book, or think that it was written to sexually stimulate then drop this book. If you think that Pedophilia is okay then please do not read this book, and go to therapy. No part of this book was written to represent erotica. If you are an adult and any part of this book stimulates you to a point at which you begin thinking this book as pornographic, please, stop reading this book and I hope your genitalia shrivels up then falls off.
Thirdly: I do not in any way support pedophilia, crime, murder, or suicide. If you are considering suicide then go get help before you are as messed up as me. I believe that the only place suicide, murder, rape, pedophilia, arson, and drug abuse should ever be seen is in a purely fictional work. I also do not support underage sex with this book. Non-consensual sex is not appropriate in any way.
Fourthly: I am myself, a homosexual. I was greatly disturbed by the notion that this book in any way supports a theory that all homosexual men are pedophiles. Pedophilia is a filthy thing that has nothing to do with homosexuality. Do not take this book in any way as trying to state that homosexuals are pedophiles. In fact, the characters in this book are, very possibly, not even all homosexuals. There is a great deal of confusion in the minds of this book’s characters. There is no political propaganda in this novel which would encourage ridiculous theories such as homosexuality and pedophilia being related.
Note: This book is written as a Fabulamena. A Fabulamena is a term from the Latin Fabul and Camena. It means a Poetry Story. In this book the characters speak and think in poetry or song. Simply placed, this novel is a literary musical.
So, without further ado I present to you my book: SWING: A Psychopathy.
SWING
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 – Of Childhood Memories and Dance
Chapter 2 - Of Bathrooms and Denial
Chapter 4 – Falling For the Heterosexual
Chapter 5 – Unwilling Fixation
Chapter 8 – Horrible Horror Flicks
Chapter 9 – The Anger of Kirk and the Love of A Brother
Chapter 10 – Monsters among the Trees
Chapter 11 – Morbid Sensations
Chapter 14 – Suspicions Of Sin
Chapter 15 – Boiling Oil and a Fool’s Doubt
Chapter 17 – Will Be Dead By Morning
Chapter 19 – Broken Mother’s Loving Rage
PART
1
Eric and Mark swung on the swings every day
They loved to swing in their school playground
There was a high school just around the way
Then one day the boys heard a strange sound
CHAPTER
1
Of Childhood Memories and Dance
Swinging with the winds of time is the story of innocence, sorrow, murder, and blood. There is the tale of two homosexual lovers who give their lives to the pursuit of freedom. They ran from the law after committing atrocious acts, they held hands as they were sought their escape, but the law always wins. The law of the United States of America, where we have a place to tell our bloody tale, comes hand in hand with the balance of the Universe which swings down the hands of justice.
For the lonely town of Reovice in the United States the calm night was exactly what the residents paid their mortgages for. The smooth trickling of the river by the suburb could be heard from beyond a thin gathering of trees which separated the suburb and the river. Bicycles, jumping ropes, and basketballs lay on drive-ways resting for the forthcoming day. The sun would soon rise at which time the children of Reovice would use the toys in recreation once more. All the lights behind the windows of the homes had already died. The residences themselves were hushed, and there was that serenity in the air which was the aura of people dreaming their wildest dreams in their slumber. The exceptions were for very few homes every which way with still lit rooms which manifested where the lovers were enjoying their hours of darkness or where the defiant children were watching television. The white picket fences kept curious onlookers from knowing for certain what was going on inside the secretive homes. Rose bushes were filled thick with thorns to shield from the threat of intruders, and the chances of tripping a security system were too elevated in these quiet yet overly protective suburbs.
At the end of Intration Street sat a house with a room lit only by a dim lamp… this was the Thent household. Rose Thent, wife of Jeffery Thent, was a retired school teacher who had been able to retire four years earlier when her grandfather passed away leaving her with enough money for her and her family to live out their days. Jeffery Thent was the husband of the heiress. Jeffery Thent had committed a long time to vice and secrecy. He left the house often to visit his friends, or at least that’s the justification he used for leaving the house. Rose suspected that Jeffery might have been cheating on her or doing something appalling, but it was only a minute suspicion which was fading at the back of her mind each passing day.
For sixteen year old David Thent, son to both Jeffery and Rose, the tears gently running down his face onto his pillow at three of the night were nothing other-worldly whilst he lay on his bed. Tears had become adornments of David’s life ever since he was eleven years old. For five years there were tears of pain and sorrow slithering down his face all of which were due the bringing of one sick villain. The heavy breathing behind David subdued the quite gasps of David’s crying as his body was invaded by his drug addicted father’s penis. The pain had subdued over time, but the emotional distress was worse each time it occurred. Jeffery Thent was under the influence of an unsafe amount of cocaine and heroin. David could remember the first time he was raped as if it were yesterday. He had been eleven, his world had been simple, and he knew only the affection and care of his two parents.
“Come here, you little shit” Jeffery Thent had come into David’s room with heroin coursing through his veins. “That fucking bitch was boring as fuck” he said, referring to his mother Rose who was still working as a school teacher back then. Rose had come home too tired to thrill her husband with the little energy inside her.
Rose knew nothing of the abuse David endured. David could remember lying in his bed, unable to feel his legs, and blood dripping out from his anus. David could remember the white fluid that his father had shot from his penis onto David’s face. How confusing it had been for the eleven year old who could only moan in pain.
“If you tell your mom… I’m killing the bitch… and you!” with which he had stormed out of the room leaving the eleven year old to lie on his back for two hours until the sun rose and he stood up to get ready for school. He had tripped then fallen to the floor when he first tried getting up, but he had been able to recover himself in time for Rose not to notice what had happened.
Five years later David was handsome. David’s mother was incredibly proud of her son’s innocence, his good looks, and his good manners. “Good eggs… prime stuff really… I should have more kids” she often chuckled as she watched her son walking off to school. David was tall with skin of a creamy peach hue, wavy brown hair framed his two dark eyes, and a body that was developing very well.
Jeffery began to spasm before climaxing into David’s body. David felt a pain so intense that it forced David to close his eyes in pain for a moment. Soon Jeffery sighed in relief and rubbed his skin against his exposed son. Jeffery took himself out of David’s body, pushed David to face upward, and spoke. “Clean it” he commanded. David felt the knot form in his stomach as he leaned forward and Jeffery shoved his penis into David’s mouth. He quickly swallowed whatever cum was left on the tip of his father’s penis, Jeffery gathered his clothes, and David was left in peace.
David heard the door close to the master bedroom and let out a heavy gasp. The tears came in heavy flows now as he slowly rose to his feet, walked into his bathroom, but slightly hovelled from the pain in his anus. He washed his mouth and cleaned himself of what his father had left behind.
He opened his windows to rid the room of the smell of abuse and rape… the rank scent of his father’s balls. David changed his bed covers just as he did each night and lay down to sleep. David’s heart was heavy, his body was in aching pain, but he had survived another night.
Alontinian Street lay four blocks from Intration. The Waggo Household was a beautiful display of colorful flowers which danced across the yard and climbed up the walls of the home. All these colorful flowers were due to the magical touch which Elizabeth Waggo, wife of Daniel Waggo, claimed to have for gardening. Daniel Waggo was proud of his woman who kept a clean home and felt like a princess in her plain suburban life. Raised by parents from the KKK Daniel struggled to shake away prejudice thoughts of hatred. He had long harbored hatred for other races that had been nothing but human scum to him for most of his life. His wife Elizabeth changed his way of thinking seeing as she was half Cherokee and Daniel renounced his family and their beliefs before moving with Elizabeth to Reovice to start a family. He still felt very strongly against some people, but was learning to not be so ignorant. Homosexuality was still a pure sin to both him and Elizabeth who had been raised a Christian, lived her life by the word of the Bible, and voted as Conservative Republican.
Behind the bright flowers was the window to sixteen year old Darrel Waggo’s bedroom. Darrel Waggo was an excited boy who had wild dreams of celebrity and fame as he whizzed around the room to a heavily auto tuned song blasting from the portable music player that he held securely in his hand. Darrel was vain and proud of his Cherokee blood. David was only quarter Cherokee and knew very little of the Cherokee people. However, his mother’s Cherokee-French blood had been enough to keep him from looking too much like his father who had been raised by what Darrel called “white trash”. Southerners had facial features which made it effortless for Darrel to deny all connections to them without remorse. Darrel had inherited his mother’s features for the most part, cheekbones, lips, and nose. To Darrel’s luck the only thing he had inherited from Daniel Waggo were his green eyes which flashed in the light of his dim lamp. His ability to dance had probably come from his tribal roots, but he didn’t care and was happy to say that they came from Heaven above.
I look at them, and I find only one thing to do. I smile so shyly at them like a silly little boy. They look at me, and there’s a strange curiosity! Darrell mouthed the words as he floundered his arms and legs. He examined himself in his mirror as he shook his hips in a frenzied rhythm, and then dropped his body down low in splits that he could only do in the calm of his bedroom. Where are the hot heterosexuals? The hot boys. The ones who crave women, and are my eyes’ toys. He heaved himself across the room, and continued his senseless dance. He looked foolish, but felt marvelously fabulous as he lip sang his latest anthem. Where are the hot heterosexuals of the planet! One better show up before I make a wild racket!
Kirk Waggo, brother to Darrel Waggo, shook and rattled with tears of quiet weeping in the room next to Darrel’s. Twelve and secretly gay he was clueless as to what to do with his life or with his awful secret. Powerless over the control of his flamboyant mannerisms that escaped him in flashes at times, and encouraged his father’s frequent “tough love” to fix his strange manners which Daniel was sure would lead to a gauche adulthood, but was already leading to being picked on at school. “You would imagine some snide from the other kids would teach him to clean up his act, but we need to try our best with him” Daniel Waggo had told his wife before.
Darrel whipped his hair with all his strength up and down. His body twisted and turned with delight, and his hips kept thrusting as he lip sang his song.
Kirk lurched across his bedroom feeling sick and weary of his life. Kurk was soon inside his room’s bathroom, and was looking at the razor he had stolen from his father.
Where are they? Where are they? Where have all the heterosexual boys gone? Did they all gain weight instead of building brawn? Darrel’s body shook back and forth as he moved across his room, pretending to see hundreds of people cheering for him inside the room.
Kirk stood against the wall of his bathroom, laid his head back, and thought softly to himself. Watch my feet I move them with skill. Kirk dragged his feet across the floor in a halfhearted moon-walk. It’s impossible for me to stay calm and still. Then the people around me smile. My acceptance truly stands no trial. That is for I hold something secretly. I hold secret all of my homosexuality Kirk walked to the window of his bathroom, opened it, and leaned his head out with tears streaming out of his eyes. The night’s air was frigid and bitter. He looked down and saw his mother’s garden. Look at the way mother clings to her bible on Sundays. Look at my father blame Satan and Hell for the gays. Oh. how I wish I could tell them all about my secret. However, there is a silent fear I will just have to emit. How I wish I could slide my feet with total joy. Until then I will merely dream about being with a boy
Where have they gone?! Darrel lip sang with all his fabulous force six yards away.
Kirk stood with his head back inside his bathroom with his eyes back on the razor he had stolen. Why am I the one who suffers the stupidity of others? Why must I be the one to hurt by ignorant brothers? His eyes grew wide, his cheeks became red, and his tears were now of rage. Fuck them all in their stupidity for I tire of it all. Fuck it all with the way they make me feel so small. When will I be happy and be allowed to slide my way? When God is with me and he’ll accept that I’m gay! Kirk’s anger and sorrow guided his eyes back to the razor he had taken. If I must be with God to be accepted then let it so be! For then I’ll be free. I won’t suffer crap from everybody! I see my father’s blade. At twelve I don’t have my own. Kirk leaned forward and turned the water of his sink on. I place my wrist under the water… my veins are shown
Where have all the good boys gone? Darrel’s feet moved smoothly along the floor.
So little effort to slide the blade down my skin. So little to finally commit such an unspeakable sin. Kirk continued to think as he picked up the blade. He could only see the razor as a silver illumination for tears were blurring his vision.
I’m losing hope over here without good eye candy! Darrel imagined the screaming fans reaching for the hem of his pajama pants.
So, here goes nothing, and I slid the blade across. Kirk watched the scene before him as if a stranger’s hand was slicing his wrist. I looked at the blood spread across my skin like moss.
Why are they? Why are they? Why are the boys vanishing!? Darrel continued to lip sing
It grew and ran down my arm. It wrapped around me. Suddenly, I could not see, everything was blurry. Kirk saw his blood spilling from his wrist for only a few moments before the tears and the blind rage had given him too heavy of a headache for his vision to stay focused.
Have they abandoned me and the girls? Did they all go back to their strange worlds? Darrel spun uncontrollably.
In my final moments I dipped my finger in blood. And I slid my finger across the mirror all I could. I wrote only two words which told an epic tale. The words “I’m Gay” told my parents how they fail.
Where are the hot heterosexuals, my god? Darrel twirled around as the song came closer to its end.
They will see my white and bloodless body on the floor. The blood sprayed and my dead body will be sliding down the bathroom door.
Ah, Ah, Ah, oh, oh, oh, where did they go, go, go!!! Darrel spun once more and slid along the floor. “Ah, fuck” Darrel squealed softly as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg. The sting burst into his stomach and he fell to the floor.
I slide out of life, and into God’s shining grace. I slide my hands for the last time across my face.
Kirk’s body lay in the bathroom as his blood leisurely seeped out from his wound and onto the floor. His skin slowly lost all of its color, and the foot of his bathroom door was soon colored with the boy’s blood. The words “I’m Gay” written in blood along the bathroom mirror dried on the clean glass leaving behind a thick memorandum of himself for his family to find with his body. The night’s gentle frigid wind rushing in from the window soon did away with the body’s last bit of warmth. Kirk Waggo’s eyes lost the lights which showed the presence of a soul.
Reovice was a calm suburb-covered town, its residents were the happiest possible people you could find, and they were also hard workers with the most beautiful town in the United States. White picket fences most of which were lacquered with blood, beautiful green trees feeding on the flesh of the dead that were buried by the trees’ roots, and rolling hills of green grass, flowers, and trees all somehow grew and thrived in a desert state. Reovice had a malevolent history covered in blood, murder, and disgusting acts of violence. Coincidently all of those historical records were conveniently lost during the Second World War, and left behind were only records that encouraged people to think of and take pride in the fact that Reovice was the calmest town in America.
CHAPTER
2
Of Bathrooms and Denial
The sun rose to a newly groggy Reovice. The homes were all in a hushed hurry to get the husbands along with a few wives to work on time. The animals were awake and pacing across the grass glazed in morning dew. Each pet was wise enough to not bark the children out of their slumber. The children all still had a few minutes of rest. The school buses were almost ready to circulate the town for children. House wives were struggling to multi task between preparing their husbands for work and preparing the breakfast for the children. The wives were the only creatures of Reovice awake before six of the morning.
Elizabeth Waggo, mother of Kirk Waggo, was similar to all other women of Reovice. She was the first person in her household to wake up in the morning. Diminutive white pearls clung to her ears, one inch heels, a blue summer dress, and a few lithe dashes of makeup upon her soft dark skin had her ready. She was prepared to lug her boys to school and then attend the weekly breakfast with the women of the church afterwards.
“Kirk, Sweetypuss?” Darrel Waggo walked into Kirk’s bedroom under order of his mother to wake him up. Darrel was the lone person in the house who Kirk ever spoke to kindly, but to both his parents he spoke in a hostile tone which was an attempt to shroud his betraying flamboyant voice. Darrel walked in to find the lights already turned on and Kirk’s bed made. Darrel’s eyes scanned the room and he soon came to the conclusion that Kirk had probably woken up and gone downstairs already. “Made his bed… unusual” Darrel thought out loud before turning the lights off and leaving.
“Very funny” Darrel said, walking into the kitchen to find his mother preparing Kirk’s favorite breakfast. This elaborate breakfast consisted of pancakes with a bacon strip forming its mouth, two blackberries for eyes, and scrambled eggs to give it blonde hair. It was sure to cheer up Kirk by showing him that she knew his favorite breakfast choice. Kirk had been so sad last night before getting to bed, and she didn’t know why.
“Hey, anything to get him to warm up to me a little more” Elizabeth replied with a grin.
“So, you two pulled together that cruel joke?” Darrel exaggerated the word ‘cruel’ sarcastically.
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked, as she took two plates for the boys. “Where’s your brother?”
“What do you mean? You and him decided to trick me into thinking he was still asleep… his bed is made and everything” Darrel replied, somewhat confused. “What are you talking about?”
“His… favorite breakfast” she replied weakly pointing to the pancakes.
“Oh… where is he then?” Darrel asked in what was now a hint of concern.
Elizabeth’s stomach was now in knots and she left the kitchen without another word. She made her way up the stairs to Kirk’s room. Darrel hesitated for a moment before following her up the staircase. Darrel and Elizabeth stood at the door of Kirk’s bedroom.
“Well…” Darrel said when Elizabeth did not open the bedroom door.
“Well what?” Elizabeth turned to Darrel.
“Aren’t we going in there?”
“Of course we are.” Elizabeth looked back at the door knob and hesitated another moment before finally opening the door and flicking the lights on.
Once more Darrel scanned the bedroom to find it just as he had left it. Elizabeth scanned the room, and saw the dark pool of blood underneath the bathroom door. Elizabeth looked down at her feet and did everything to keep her breathing under control. Kirk had been sad last night, but that was not right.
He couldn’t have… it must be shadow… it’s a shadow cast at the foot of the door. Elizabeth Waggo pondered fearfully.
“Darrel, go finish getting ready for school” she spun around and turned the light off before Darrel could become aware of the pool of blood. “I just remembered” she said, walking out of room with Darrel. “I gave your dad permission to take him to work with him”.
“Oh, okay then” Darrel said without further need of explanation. He walked away with hunger and was anxious to salvage what was left of the now burning breakfast.
Elizabeth watched after her son as he left the second floor of the house, and was far from earshot. Then, Elizabeth anxiously spun around once more to the door of her son’s bedroom. Even though she was alone Elizabeth still opened the door to Kirk’s room with the upmost care to not make a sound. She turned the lights back on, and looked to the pool of blood still tranquilly sitting at the foot of the door.
“That’s odd…” Daniel Waggo had said to himself one morning.
“What is it?” Elizabeth had asked.
“My razor. It’s missing”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you throw it in the trashcan by mistake” from her seat at the toilet and then she went back to her newspaper.
“You’re probably right” he said. Then he added in a mutter “damn it”. He opened a drawer and extracted a new razor.
Elizabeth remembered the casual exchange between her and her husband two mornings ago for a reason only her subconscious understood as she walked ever so gradually towards the bathroom door. The closer Elizabeth walked to the pool of blood the more she prayed and wished for it to melt away, a shadow of the morning’s sun. She stood over the blood, hand on the doorknob, breathing heavily and yet struggling to stray under control. She turned the door knob and opened the door.
The smell of blood invaded her nostrils, and her eyes were conquered by the pools of blood lounging across the floor. Her son’s lifeless body lay before her, the window wide open allowing the sun to gleam upon the scene, and the words ‘I’m Gay’ were written along the mirror in blood reflecting the sunlight into Elizabeth eyes.
“No!” Elizabeth finally allowed herself to scream, she ran to her son’s side, and fell to her knees. “Not my baby, please” she began to check him for a heartbeat. “Please!” she felt no pulse, and realized that nobody could spill so much blood and survive. “Fuck!” she screamed, and pounded her fist against Kirk’s chest before burying her face into his chest. “Please, not this. Please, my god, tell me that you’re lying.” Elizabeth wept into her son’s chest.
Her knees and feet were covered in blood, but Elizabeth stood up and walked out of the room. However, she first turned back to look at the words written in blood. Elizabeth looked at the two small trivial words. They were meaningless to her, her heart was broken, and she could feel her lungs becoming smaller. Elizabeth turned away from the scene, and ran out of her son’s bedroom. She walked down the stairs and walked into the kitchen to the telephone. Her arms were small… her heels were covered in blood… she reached for the phone and rapidly slipped. Her head hit the floor with terrible force.
“Bye, Mom!” Darrel yelled from the door. A thick wall stood between the kitchen and the doorway. Darrel walked out to the school bus pulling up to their home.
Darrel Waggo walked out of his house and walked up to the Reovice High School bus. Darrel had no friends and spent his lunch breaks eating and studying even though his grades were already average at best. He walked past everybody. Despite his lack of friends he attracted the gaze of several girls who would often attempt flirting with him. Darrel would often ignore the girls, they would often get upset, and they would often ask if he were ‘a fucking faggot’ before walking off with ire filling them. Darrel was lucky to find a seat that he could have all to himself, and sat next to the window as the bus took off to pick up the remaining high school students. As more students arrived Darrel decided to put his backpack next to him to maintain his solitude. Darrel liked being alone it gave him time to fantasize about the days in which he’d be a celebrity. How he would reach worldwide fame was beyond him. His talent being dance; he was one of millions of children around the world thinking that obtaining fame was all about the connections. Darrel would manage to find connections… at least… he thought he could.
David Thent stepped into the Reovice High School Bus. David was an awkward boy whom nobody ever sought to sit with. Despite his handsome poise he was unable to make friends and had perfect grades which made him an appalling nerd. David always had a guaranteed lonely seat at the back of the bus. Unfortunately, today his comfortable seat at the back of the bus had been stolen from him. The Pueblos were a new family in Reovice and as destiny would have it their son had decided to sit at the back. David resorted to looking around for a seat. Like dominoes the backpacks flew from the floor to the empty seats wherever his gaze went. His face flushed red, and he began shouting in panic inside his head.
Darrel’s heart strings were tugged to see the magical manner in which the backpacks had flown up to their seats. He looked at David’s handsome cheeks turn a ghastly shade of red and he beamed without thinking of it. He’s got nowhere to sit. Darrel thought He’s…so cute. The thought darted abruptly into Darrel’s head and he paid it no mind. He quickly cleaned his face of the smile, and took his backpack from the seat next to him as the bus began moving again.
David wanted to jump out of the moving bus, and roll into the nearest sewage hole. He looked around the bus one final time before deciding to stand by the bus door. His eyes fell on the seat next to Darrel… Is he blind? Does he not see what everybody else is doing?!
David looked at the empty seat, and then a new voice in his head cleared its throat. Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe one person on this planet wouldn’t mind sitting next to you? You know… it’s just a bus seat for ten minutes while you guys get to the school.
Unexpectedly, a table-meeting commenced inside David’s mind.
Yeah! A new voice yelled out, if that son of a bitch can bear to shove his cock up you every single fucking night… maybe one decent person in the world wouldn’t mind sitting next to you.
Son of a bitch? Another voice asked in a seductive voice, the cat woman living inside David. He is a monster, a criminal, a demon, a cockroach… I FUCKING HATE HIM!
Shut up! Everybody’s just watching me stand here! David yelled inside his mind.
Then maybe you should sit down, Einstein. A final voice said. David quickly slung his backpack off his shoulders and sat down next to Darrel who had his eyes pointed directly outside the window. Darrel was scared that looking at David would make him blush… it would make him want to sit closer to him.
I’m not Gay! Darrel shouted in his mind.
Sure thing, Mr. Dance A new voice taunted.
Fuck off, there are a lot of dancers who aren’t gay He retorted.
Fine. The voice digressed.
Even if you were into him I doubt he’s gay anyway. Another voice pointed out.
Crap, you’re right. Darrel realized.
GAY! You just said it!!! The first voice shouted.
Shut up!!! I’m not Gay! It’s not in my genes! Darrel retorted.
Your mom is part French… it’s all over your genes. The second voice said curiously.
I’m betting my Dad’s genes hung all those genes. Darrel rationalized.
Ah. The voices accepted, going quiet.
Darrel shot a glance at David who was sitting in silence looking down at his feet. He admired David’s striking features only another moment before finally and very begrudgingly turning back to face out the window.
David looked back up at Darrel. Oh, good he didn’t see me looking…
He is very cute…
He is very straight so shut the fuck up… and you’re straight too!
Oh, right, we are both straight. David thought gloomily before looking back down at his feet.
CHAPTER
3
Naïve Doubt
Eric Matthews sprinted out of his house, and waved to his mother who stood behind the kitchen window. The school bus for Reovice Elementary sat outside his home. Once inside Eric looked down the aisle of seats and found the boy he was looking for, Mark Donnelly. The two fourth graders had been friends since first grade and considered each other brothers. As always Mark had his backpack on the seat next to him, but quickly placed it on the floor between his legs as Eric made his way down the aisle. Saying his “Hello’s” to the other kids he knew, and he was soon sitting next to Mark Donnelly. Like family members after a year without seeing each other the two boys hugged and then sat rather quietly with both their gazes set outside the window on the immaculate sun of the new day.
“Look,” Mark at last broke the silence after a few moments.
Partially asleep, yet happy to give his attention, Eric snapped into awareness. “Yeah?”
Mark bent over to peer into his backpack. “Get down here” he whispered.
Eric took a moment to check on the bus driver to ensure he wasn’t caught doing anything vile before he bent down to see what was inside Mark’s backpack. Eric peered into the backpack, and looked around with the promise of seeing something of grandeur. That is exactly what he found. “Oh my” Eric gasped.
“I know, right?” Mark said proudly. He took hold of his newest possession, being careful not to take it out of his backpack.
“Should you even have it in school?” Eric asked, taking it from Mark and observing it as closely as he could while keeping it inside the backpack.
“I doubt it” Mark replied boldly.
“You’ve got guts, Donnelly, and you’re so getting caught with that thing” Eric chortled. He set it back into position among Mark’s school materials, and sat upright once more.
Mark quickly shut away his new possession and zipped his backpack. Sitting upright again he looked into Eric’s eyes. A moment passed in which Mark knew Eric would never tell on him, and the long look into each other’s eyes was soon broken when they both began to laugh. Their cheeks became scarlet as they giggled for a moment. Then they shifted closer to each other and redirected their attention to the iridescent sun and peaceful community outside the bus window. That was their bond. They were as close as brothers and their love was a tight union of friendship in their opinion. Their relationship was cemented together by emotions that they both knew were more than simple friendship, but too young to call it anything else. Their relationship was “Simply an ordinary friendship.” for the two boys and everyone around them. For they didn’t know the words to call it call it by any other name nor did they possess the mental maturity to need anything other than a childish camaraderie.
Eric put his head on Mark’s shoulder. His favorite part of any day was getting into the school bus in the morning just to see Mark. Mark put his head on Eric’s. The two boys looked out the window as the other kids surrounding them were absorbed into exhilarating conversations, and the bus driver assumed the two boys were falling asleep as always. Eric closed his eyes and soon Mark’s hand was holding his. Why did they enjoy each other’s company so deeply? Neither of them cared to question their affection since the state of togetherness they shared was their favorite thing in the world. When Mark’s older sister died he decided to still attend school the next day, because sitting with Eric because time with him was Mark’s sanctuary. When Eric’s dog died he invited Mark to bury the dog with him and his dad in their garden together and had not cried a tear with Mark at his side. They were each other’s sanctuaries even if they didn’t know the word sanctuary.
In school the two boys were known as inseparable. They had few friends apart from each other, and were notorious in the playground for not sharing the swing set. Each day they somehow reached the swing set before anyone else, and took the only two spots as their own. Eric and Mark swung on the swings every day. The two of them spent their days laughing and shrieking like two thrilled children. They were merely children, after all. In the sun and in the rain they would see which one of the two could get closer to the heavens and if ever one would go much higher than the other he would reach out to the other and pull the other higher up to his level. It was on rare occasion that they would leave the swings before it was time to go back into class. Today was one of those rare days that they left after ten minutes, and sharp eyed children rushed to claim the two empty spots.
“Are you sharing with me?” Eric asked Mark as they held hands, and went behind one of the school buildings to a place that not many children knew about. Shadows sometimes played across the grass, scaring away most children. Being together meant that they had nothing to fear though. Why? Did it matter?
“No, I’m sharing with the floor.” Mark replied sarcastically, and he fell to the floor in a sitting position. Mark opened his backpack, and took out the box he had shown Eric in the bus.
“I wonder why they’re not allowed in school anyway.” Eric pondered aloud.
“No idea… some sort of health code. ‘Candy Is Bad For Our Children’ or some bullshit like that” Mark replied, rebelliously adding a cuss word into his sentence.
“Using bad words now?” Eric asked with a smirk as he sat down beside Mark.
“Mhm” Mark took a jelly bean out of the box, and pushed it through Eric’s lips “being bad is so much fun”.
Eric chortled and rested his head on Mark’s shoulder while he chewed his apple flavored jelly bean. He looked through the small slit of fence in front of them which offered them a peek at the high school across the street.
“How’s it taste?” Mark asked, peering into the box and choosing one of his own.
“I’ve always been a pear fan, but it’s good” Eric answered.
“Oh my, that’s not acceptable” Mark gasped, “if you like pear flavored better then forgive me for giving you anything other than that” he leered.
Eric giggled and stood upright once more. “You already gave me an apple flavored jelly bean, so, I don’t think you could ever fix this problem.”
“Oh really?” Mark asked, selecting a pear flavored jelly bean from the box. Mark placed it in his mouth. He leaned into Eric and kissed him. He slowly pushed the pear flavored jelly bean past Eric’s lips. “Forgive me?” he asked, ending the kiss.
“Okay” Eric said with a leer as he ate the jelly bean. It was not common for the two boys to kiss. To them it was a simple thing that they had done once or twice (this being the longest lasting one yet). They laughed and continued to indulge in their candy.
“No!” Mark yelped when the box slipped out of his hand and dropped onto the grass.
“Calm down. It’s clean grass and not many of them fell” Eric reasoned as he picked up the nearest one, threw it into the air and caught in his mouth by way of some magical new talent.
“Jelly beans all of such beautiful colors spill.” Mark began, “I see your eyes looking at them in a thrill, I stare at you, and with joy I fill” Mark sang. They both enthusiastically began playing with the candies by tossing them, eating them, and feeding them to each other.
“Jelly beans so sweet and surprisingly small” Eric chanted, “We grab them and throw them up so tall” he threw two in the air. “Catch them in your teeth as they fall” he instructed, and Mark lunged forward to try, but failed miserably as they bounced off his nose.
“Jelly beans from an All Organics Store across town” Mark told him and Eric gasped. “All the money they did cost me gives me a frown, but see you make me feel richer than a king with a crown!” Eric picked one up, placed it between his tightly closed lips, and allowed Eric to bite half of it off before opening his mouth to trap it.
“Jelly beans start to roll across the floor!” Eric stood up as the school bell rang, he put his hand out for Mark to take. “Expensive, yet worth what we adore” he told Mark, both of them now dancing optimistically hand in hand. “Seeing which flavors we prefer” Mark dipped Eric. Eric swung his arm behind him, picked whatever jelly bean was on the floor, flung up once more, and popped it through Mark’s lips.
“Blah, you gave me butter!”
“Will you allow me a taste?” They kissed. “Not that bad”
“Jelly beans so small and sweet just like you” Mark took Eric’s backpack and his own on his back.
“With you I only smile. There’s little else to do.” Eric put his arm around Mark’s waist.
“These words of love are all sweet and true!!!” They both sang as Eric picked up the now half empty jelly bean box. The two boys skipped off towards class.
Reovice High School’s highest building was only two floors tall. The second floor was a row of classrooms; like a suburb with doors on each side of a hallway which led to the emergency exit at the back. The students entered by climbing a case of stairs and walking across a small platform to reach a set of double doors. Standing against the railing of this small platform was the lonely David Thent who customarily spent his lunch hours there. The sensation of the wind on some days lifted his soul. David was able to glance down at other people, and pretend that he was not a piece of trash in the world. His own father had carefully instilled a deep sense of worthlessness in his son over the years. Today he did not look out to the horizon against Reovice. David was not looking at the birds with his own plans of flying with them someday. He was not looking downward with his eyes flitting around the ground to see what the other people were doing “The Simpleton Humans” as he called them. No, not today; today David was looking at the dark corner of the grounds to the small bench upon which Darrel Waggo sat.
Deep in thought Darrel Waggo had not touched his science textbook despite science being his next class. It went against his habit of studying during his break to avoid communicating with people, but science class was the last thing he cared about at the moment. Darrel was looking down at his shoes pensively. Darrel was thinking only of David. He didn’t even know his name, yet sitting next to him had been very tense for him. The boy was striking, the boy was astonishingly average, and the boy was a boy! Why was he thinking of another boy like this? He had seen other boys before! Thousands of boys had passed his eyes! He had looked at girls before… he masturbated to thoughts of women. What was wrong with him?
David looked at Darrel ignoring the “I’m Not Gay!!!” voices in his mind for a moment. He felt his mind tumbling into the deepest fathoms of thought.
Do people ask you if you’re gay, because you walk slightly odd? Your swooped hair is never astray, and everybody thinks you’re cute. Darrel thought of David oblivious to the fact that this was exactly what David was quietly singing to himself. You are never teased on for it, but you never call the girls back.
“I wondered… what your thoughts of me were. I think… that you are only Homo-Sapien.” David frowned. He miserably walked away from the railing, and began walking down the stairs. “You might be a bisexual. Or you might be bi-curios. Or perhaps it’s only: That you’re so modern”.
You have one of those auras. A beautiful smile just so. You have a certain prowess. It simply melts my heart of ice. Darrel thought as he took his backpack off the bench and lay down with his hands behind his head. I want… to look at your porn stash. I think… you might be only Homo-Sapien.
A homo? A Sapien.
A homo. A sapien!
Homo-Sapien
“You are sweet, but so quiet. Is it because you’re a homo? Or is it a Homo-Sapien?” David whispered quietly, as he sat down at the bottom of the steps. A trio of girls standing there were lost in his gorgeous face for a moment before reluctantly leaving. Afraid that being seen near him would hurt their images.
I must be terribly wrong. Your manners are so…Ordinary. Darrel shook his head.
“Never bearing bracelets. You are not so modern. You’re a homo, yeah? A classic case.” David laughed in a mutter as he stood up once more. David began walking towards where Darrel had been sitting with hopes of him still being there. Homosapien. The contradicting thought rose in David’s mind once more.
I wondered…What do you think of me? I think…You are only a Homo-Sapien. Darrel thought, putting his hands over his face in mortification.
David turned the corner of one of the smaller buildings to look at Darrel sitting on the shady bench just as the school bell rang. Darrel was shaken from his thoughts, took his backpack, and quickly walked away. Darrel’s eyes were looking directly to the floor he walked past David without noticing him. David watched after him as he climbed the steps of the high school’s biggest building. “I thought…Of asking you up front. I think… You would say “Homo-Sapien” David frowned. He turned away, and made his way to class.
Darrel reached the platform at the top of the steps, and looked down for a moment. He saw David and suddenly grinned with a blush. Your hair is always in a swoop…Is it because you are Homosexual? Or are you merely… Homo-Sapien? Overwhelmed, Darrel looked down at his feet, and walked into the building. He had never felt so incomprehensibly lost in doubt.
David solemnly made his way towards his next class on the opposite side of the campus. His next class was History, and he was not particularly anxious to reach the classroom. His History teacher was a strange overweight man whose hair had fallen off years ago. The History Teacher had a sweet manner of doing things. He was incredibly lenient in his way of grading his students, but something about his aura frightened David. In the middle of the long classes he would look into his teacher’s eyes only to see the shadows of a twisted past. He did not know what he saw, but he was sure it could not be good. That is why David was late to his History class on that day.
“You’re late!” the teacher screeched. “Take out your book. Turn to page four hundred and twenty five!”
David rushed to his assigned seat, and took his book out from inside the depths of his backpack. His fingers guided the pages of the book as they flew by and finally he reached the page he sought. He looked up at the board at the front of the class to confirm he had reached the correct page. The subject of the day was “The Life of Queen Hatchepsut”. He had reached the right page. His history teacher began telling them all about the wondrous life of a Queen of Egypt whom history had almost completely forgotten. The students read along as he presented the lesson.
Queen Hatchepsut was born to a King of Egypt. Her half-brother became Pharaoh of after her father’s death. To ensure that tradition was kept Hatchepsut became a simple consort to her half-brother, and was married to him. Hatchepsut was almost doomed to being merely a wife to another great pharaoh. However, he was no great pharaoh; her husband suffered a life of ill-health. Her husband’s ill health caused his early death, and she soon ascended to power. While she was in power Egypt was incredibly prosperous, and she had a great temple built. Her mortuary temple at Deir el Bahari has come under much speculation over the years. The building itself is beautiful, but the way in which it was built brings doubt to many historians. The architect responsible, Senemut, was incredibly close to Hatchepsut for a commoner. Over the years historians wondered if she and Senemut were in fact lovers. The discussion seemed to have created an Egyptologist Community fascinated with the relationship. However, unless a miraculous set of surviving documents detailing the relationship in more detail were ever found those details would forever be lost to doubt.
David read the chapter, enthralled by the ancient world. He adored the ability to escape into anything that was not related to modern humans. He fantasized what it must have been to see her father die at such a young age. David envied her. Then he began to think about Darrel, and his mind began to fantasize about his own life being a speculation of historians. He wondered what he might possibly do in his life to actually be remembered, but that was a miniscule detail. David pondered his own relationship with Darrel. What if in the future he became friends with Darrel? What if he and Darrel became great comrades? Historians would never know the intimate details. Doubt would forever cloud their minds, and doubt would have never clouded his own mind.
“Two roads I could take” David murmured under his breath as he read his history book. “I think that I might want to die now. O, I don’t know which choice to make!” David sang out loud.
The History Teacher turned to David with knitted brows. “What did you say?”
“Nothing” David answered, and his nose was buried once more in the pages of his book.
The teacher cleared his throat. “Hatchepsut’s mummy was identified by-”
“I don’t know what to believe in or how, and I know that you are there too!” David began his singing again, raising his face from his history book. “O, I can tell in your eyes that doubt exists. You look at me with an expression so blue” David jumped up and stood on his chair. The students around him tossed up their own history books with joy. They caught the books as they fell and slammed them onto their desks.
“Why not end this all and simply be in bliss?!” The History Teacher sang, tossing his notebook at the board at the front of the room.
“Oh!” the rest of the students sang, jumping onto their chairs like David. “Tell us the tale!” they sang, kicking into the air. “O, lordy, lordy, lordy, lord!”
“Holding doubts you are kept from me! What keeps us from being together?” David sang to the heavens.
“Strong doubts keep us in mental calamity!” the girl next to David sang, her flaxen hair swinging into the air as she tossed her head back.
“I want all of your love and our flutter, but there is nothing but confusion!” a black girl sitting on the other side of David’s seat began. “Oh! I just don’t know what to do!”
“I don’t know if you’re gay or straight, and the doubt leaves us no option. I don’t know if you like me or not!” David sang, and he jumped off of his chair.
The History Teacher jumped onto his desk and began to kick like a rocket as his students pushed aside their studies. “Why don’t you even try to say something? Anything that might reassure me of this! Am I seeing the truth behind everything or am I seeing shadows in your eyes?!”
The students took partners and began to dance as they continued to sing the song. “Why won’t you tell me up front, and save me? Why won’t you set us free from doubt? Save us both from these doubts so haunting?” The girls swooned into the boys’ arms.
“Do I want you and I to hook up and go out?!” The girls sang.
“Oh, we’re holding unreasonable doubts!” The boys sang, tossing the girls into the air.
“Holding onto doubts is what keeps us short, keeps cities from forming, and love from appearing.” The History Teacher declared in a deep voice which vibrated off the walls of the classroom. His singing bellows shook the walls and they all continued their singing as David jumped onto the teacher’s desk.
“In this doubt I hold no smart retort. Is your mind like mine, hurting and pleading? Begging desperately for a straight up answer.” The students all sang in unison. Their limbs flailed madly as they continued to dance with each other. Their legs were kicking, their joined hands were swinging, and their heads are moving to and fro. David and The History Teacher began to dance with each other atop the desk.
“Holding doubts of anything is disastrous. It’s a poison, and I think I’ll lose my mind soon! I hold nothing true out of fear and doubt!” the lone black girl belted out with all her might.
All the students then fell to the ground in exhaustion. They slid across the floor of the classroom with their chests rising and falling.
“So, what keeps marriages from completing or business from continuing farther off?” The History Teacher asked David. The students all jumped up once more and silently swung their desks and chairs back to their original positions. “Am I seeing shadows or am I on to something? In this world what makes me scoff? In this world what keeps you from me?” The History Teacher sang in his operatic voice to David.
There was a moment of silence as the students all watched David. They waited for his answer anxiously. They all stood on their chairs with one foot on their desks. Their arms were raised above their heads, ready to jump into the air.
“Ooooo” David began to answer. “It’s doubt. It’s the act of holding onto all the questions. What keeps me awake at night and lonely? In it all you lose all your good options! It is doubt, so why don’t you want to save me? It is merely doubt!” David sang angrily to the students and his teacher. The History Teacher wrapped his arms around David.
The students all leapt up from their stances, and spun in the air.
“O, simple doubt which keeps me from you!” David finished. The History Teacher tossed David into the air. David spun in the air with his fellow students, and he fell onto his desk. His body spun on the desk, he took his book, and slid into his chair in less than a second. The others all landed on their chairs in sitting positions as well.
Loud slamming noises were heard around the room as all the pupils opened their books to page four hundred and twenty five. “Oh!” they all sang. They all looked up at The History Teacher who was once more standing in front of his white board reading from his notebook. He looked at the students with a grimace.
“Shut up…” he ordered patiently, and looked back down at his notebook. “Hatchepsut’s reign…”
David surveyed the room and saw that all the students had returned to their original positions. Had they ever moved at all? Oh, what terrifyingly absorbing doubts David held in his heart. He shook his head before turning back to the fascinating words before him.
CHAPTER
4
Falling For the Heterosexual
David was incredibly fortunate. The Pueblos’ son had fallen ill during his first day of school, and his mother had taken him from school. His seat at the back of the bus was empty. David’s comfortable back seat was available. Why was he not making his way to the back of the bus? Why was he standing by the seat he had been able to get in the morning? The answer to that question was gradually becoming clear, and David pondered as he stood by the seat. Darrel would be walking into the bus at any moment. If he sat with David again it would not be something odd, because after all it was merely a ten minute ride. David liked Darrel. It was a lone working response David had to any questions about the boy he had seen that morning. A boy whose name he didn’t even know. Before he could be seen by Darrel in this awkward position David slid into the window seat which Darrel had been in that morning. David placed his backpack on the seat next to his, and his mind began processing thoughts at a frantic pace.
Darrel soon walked into the bus, and, as fate would have it, the bus had been filled to capacity. He turned to the lonely seat he had been able to find in the morning and smiled. He looked into David’s eyes and couldn’t have been happier than he was in the moment David took his backpack from the seat. David placed his backpack on the floor between his legs.
Stop it! An angry voice appeared in Darrel’s head. This voice was filled with distress and hatred.
You stop it! Darrel retorted in his mind. I think I like him.
Darrel walked over to David and sat down.