《One Song》 Some Feeling are Short..... Everyday I wake up in the morning With an ache in my chest Missing you so deeply It¡¯s hard to get rest I, hurt myself today Just to see if I feel I wish I could kill it all away But I still want to know All the time we had together -Glory
Life sucked. If you were me, you would say that too once you understood everything I¡¯ve been through and all. And I know that you first want to hear everything about me, where I was born, what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were so keen on raising me as a damn Christian and all that good, feel-to-crap that everyone wants to talk about today. But I don¡¯t feel like it. For one it bores the crap out of me with all that lovey-dovey stuff and two it would sure as hell piss them off. Not that it mattered, of course, they were dead to me. Besides, this story ain¡¯t about them or me, it ain¡¯t a goddamn autobiography or biography. You see, I¡¯m just gonna tell you about the madness of a journey I had last week during Christmas Break just before I was run down and taken out here to take it easy for a while. That¡¯s all I told the nurse and the hospital worker while they integrated me and so for better use of my time, I¡¯ll tell you a story while I wait for my cab to take me over yonder to the next town over. And before I even start, I want to tell you to cut out the sympathy you have. If it¡¯s one thing I hate it when people, try to pretend it¡¯s all okay. Nothing in life is okay. Where to begin is the day I left the Community Town building. The Community Town building was located in the downtown area of Crystal Cove. You might have heard about it before, it¡¯s the newest building in the area. And if not, you saw the ads. They are disgusting of course, always showing some hot shot support group grinning like crazy as if they were having all the time in their life just chilling. As if it was all sunshine and rainbow for all I know I haven¡¯t seen a single smile since I went. And don¡¯t get me started on the logo after all it is just something dumb like a community is family. Strictly for the council members so they don¡¯t shut down the place. If you were here, you were a reject of society, nothing else, and sure as hell, family doesn¡¯t matter. Anyway, it was Saturday and I had already left the building after attending our weekly AIDS support group. I remember 3:00 that cloudy afternoon I was standing on Hangman¡¯s Hill, right next to this crazy artillery they used back in World War 2. At least that¡¯s what they said but it sure as hell looked fake. You could see the entire field up here, all of Central Park and Crystal Cove. And the grand stadium down by the lake, you couldn¡¯t hear but you sure as hell could hear it, all the fans yelling and cheering, deep and terrific for their team. Anybody who was anybody was down there cheering for their side except for him and the scrawny fan of the away team. It wasn¡¯t much but you¡¯re probably wondering what I¡¯m doing on Hangman Hill instead of hanging down there with the crowd and whatnot. Well, my reason was that sometimes I like to think and sit, a stupid thing really, but I got this thought running in my head for another song idea. The other reason why I wasn¡¯t down by the stadium was that I hated being around phony people. Everyone down there, they were a bunch of phony with their fake make-up and smiles, pretending to be perfect and all that baloney. If you sat down there, hearing all their fake applause and heinous laughter, I swear you would go insane and hate everyone in the world just like I do. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Ohhh I forgot one other thing. Tonight was my first gig, that¡¯s why I was sitting on this hill, thinking about song lyrics. I got some up in my noggin, a song called Glory that was gonna be my masterpiece as long as I got the lyric rights. So that was where I was heading, back to my apartment to get my stuff and all. Maybe they would applaud me tonight, that would be mighty funny, wouldn¡¯t it? Or maybe I would fail, just like my parents used to tell me? Anyway, it was December as you could probably tell, and it was mighty cold outside, especially on top of the goddamn hill I was standing on. I only had on my black leather jacket and no gloves or anything the likes of which a normal person would use amid winter. The funny thing was, as I stood upon this bleak snow-topped hill, I wasn¡¯t even paying any attention to the football stadium. What I was doing hanging around that crazy cannon was trying to formulate a sense of meaning in this big open world of nothing. I hated goodbye, just as I hated the word phony. Half the time it doesn¡¯t even matter the type of goodbye, good or bad, I like to leave a place knowing that I was there because if I don¡¯t, then it just feels worse. After all, this crazy hill had memories, sour memories, and good memories. I could feel it in my bones really but I can¡¯t describe it. The best I can say is when you¡¯re eating ice cream on a warm sunny day underneath the shade of a large oak tree and you¡¯re savoring every last drop as if it was the world¡¯s most precious thing. A child¡¯s most precious treasure. Maybe that¡¯s what I was doing, savoring the moment. The last time I was up here, I was sitting underneath the night sky, watching the comets streak against the darkness with Bernado. It was just before midnight, and we sat in total silence, enjoying the cheaply made meal I had gathered from our allowance. It was getting darker, and darker, the street lights turned out but we continued to sit, holding hands underneath the stars and allowing the silence to do the talking. We didn¡¯t want to stop, both of us wanted to savor the memory, wishing it to last forever. But it didn¡¯t. A city police officer shouted at us and told us off, so we ran, breathless into the night until we made it back to my apartment. Once I had the memory, I closed my eyes, letting the tears run down my cheeks like a salty river. If I ever have a chance, I always say goodbye. One can never get too many goodbyes in life and sometimes we never say it at the moment. As soon as I thought of it, I turned around, running down the side of the hill towards the poorer part of town, toward my apartment. I ran down to the old Walter Street and then I waited for a hot second to catch my breath. To tell you the truth, I¡¯m a smoker and always have been since I was kicked out at the fruitful age of fifteen. That is of course not much anymore, I¡¯ve tried to quit but it¡¯s one of the few things keeping me going in this world. And besides that, I¡¯m pretty healthy. Once I got down to Mission Avenue, I started to slow down, catching my breath as I jogged down the old shops that lined the sidewalk. Many of them have been here for ages, and he hoped they would stay that way, living for eternity to store the memory of the city. It sure as hell was icy outside and I nearly fell twice while running. I didn¡¯t care really, it was just one of those crazy days where you felt like disappearing. Terrifically cold and only the cloud to keep you company, it just felt like you could turn into a bird and escape into the day, flying onward to possibility. And let me tell you that I sure as hell rang the doorbell to my apartment complex as quickly as I could. You should have seen me, nearly twenty-six, altering my foot to get warm as I rubbed my frozen hand. My ears were hurting and I was frozen stiff, but I couldn¡¯t get rid of the stupid grin. A sign of relief escaped my lips as I watched old Mrs. Weathervane open the door in her fuzzy lilac bathrobe. They didn¡¯t have a working lock or a maid, the landlord refused to fix it and they lacked the money to fix it themself so they instead opened it themself. ¡°Ryan, my dear,¡± she shouted, opening up her wrinkled arm to envelop me in a pressing hug before stepping back, ¡°You must be frozen solid all out there!¡± Boy, you couldn¡¯t believe how fast I stepped inside that building, hanging my coat on the wall rack near the door. That was the nice thing about old Mrs. Weathervane, she didn¡¯t care about my sickness nor was she afraid to touch me. I brushed my hair back, a nervous tick of mine as I took off my old hunting hat. ¡°How are you Mrs. Weathervane,¡± I replied, returning her hug. Sadly I and the other people in the apartment found out that Mrs. Weathervane ate cat food because it was cheaper than food so we started to replace it to get her back on her feet. We didn¡¯t tell her, knowing she wouldn¡¯t accept it but it was the least we could do. We were a family, too weird to die and too broken to be healed. ¡°Ohh dear, you don¡¯t have to ask. I¡¯m doing alright,¡± she exclaimed, beaming like a child on Christmas morning before it disappeared. For a moment I was confused by her sudden expression, and grabbing her hand tightly, I asked, ¡°Did you take your medicine this morning?¡± ¡°Yes, Yes dear but I¡¯m afraid you have to look,¡± she whispered fretfully, pointing up the stairs that lead to my apartment. Other Cut Deep One Song Thats what I need One Song To tell the truth of our love That rings true, like a blazing inferno An eternal flame One Song To tell your story. But I can¡¯t hold on anymore. -Glory
I bolted up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest as a thousand different scenarios pervaded my mind. Out of the corner of my peripheral vision, I spotted the other people in our apartment complex. Everybody here always loves the drama, standing outside half-assed and dressed with gaping mouths as they follow me upstairs to the second floor. I know that sounded mean but I didn¡¯t mean it like that. This was my crazy family and all, and I was just saying that we were a tight-knit community, everybody knew everything. And like I was saying we all had each other to take care of us, the system sure as hell ain¡¯t. So if something came down, then we all knew about it, plain and simple. For instance, one Sunday this other person, Scoop, and I were playing b-ball out in the parking lot when old Mrs. Weathervane came outside and showed us this vintage clock. You could tell that the old coot was excited, so we gathered everyone up to gawk at this magnificent vintage clock. That is what I meant, we were a family, thick and thin, getting a bang out of every moment. The minute I ended at the top of the stairs, I sure as hell regretted it as I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my shoes. On my splintered wooden door, a single piece of white paper was taped up, and a grease stain splattered across the lower bottom. Something in me died as I walked up to my door, ripping off the paper with a crushing weight of despair. Everyone was protesting, clamoring, and shoving, they knew of course already and they tried to get to my side to offer me support. It was pretty depressing. I¡¯m not too crazy around people but being around them at this second, just made me sorry for even arriving in this crummy place we call home. And to make matters worse, tears gently trickled down my cheeks as I read the last little bit of the letter and the full weight of the world came crashing down. Hesitantly, I reached out, grabbing the wrong doorknob before I jerked back as a hand gently touched my back. I didn¡¯t like being touched, clenching my teeth as I resisted the urge to swing my fist. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°Hey, maybe it¡¯s not a good idea right now,¡± Kat voiced, letting go of my shoulder as she stepped back to give me my space. She was the mom of the entire complex despite being twenty this year. And out of everyone, I felt like she was the one who cared about us. Just like me, she had the virus, her body slowly turning against her due to the cycle of drug abuse she periodically went through. I wouldn''t say I liked the fact she cared so much. People like her kept caring and it pained me to know that I could never be what she wanted. Something inside of me snapped. I hated my life, hated the person I had become as I marched towards Kat, anger bubbling underneath me. I spat, ¡°It¡¯s my right to know what our fucking landlord did!¡± She didn¡¯t deserve this side of me, none of them did but I couldn¡¯t stop the venom that coursed through my veins. ¡°Hey, Rhy, why don¡¯t we take a chill pill bae!¡± Scoops shouted, putting up her hand to separate us. She also had the virus and was closer to his age but she had gone through so much being a trans-black woman. Just the other month, underneath the layer of makeup she wore, a man had broken her jaw at a bar, leaving a faint bruise behind. ¡°Leave me the fuck alone Scoops!¡± I turned away, flinging open my door before dropping to the floor in pure shock as the reality of it all dawned on me. All of my stuff was sold, and everything I owned was gone as I stared at the space that used to be my home for the last three years. ¡°I¡¯ll go make muffins dearie,¡± Miss Weathervane called out, her footsteps reverberating across the now quiet space. I didn¡¯t care, I was so mad that I was brawling like a child, clinging to my knees. Sometimes I wished life wasn¡¯t this cruel, that it was all a sick punchline, and that one day I would just wake up. But as the wood sank its teeth until my knee became a crude shade of red I finally accepted the reality that everything I once knew was nothing but dust now. ¡°Hey man if it makes you feel better we were able to save one thing,¡± Double exclaimed with a wild smile, the familiar twang of his rubber band breaking the silence in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rebekah, his best friend, and Miss Weathervane¡¯s wife, take his hand and keep him occupied. As far as any of them knew, those two were inseparable and that was their story. Double was abandoned by everyone, and out of loneliness, created friends for himself until he had a psychotic break. Rebekah found him and nursed him back to life but the damage was done. Sometimes at night, when things got bad, he would scream for her, always doubting if he was the real one. This was my family and I have done nothing but hurt them with my presence. I turned around, hoping to feel something like comfort but the pain in my heart only drove itself deeper. All around me, people cared and I have done nothing but hurt them as I stood up to my feet, brushing off the dust and grime on my jeans. All around me was my family, and yet why couldn¡¯t I feel something besides heartache? It was just embarrassing, that they didn¡¯t know how to approach me and I didn¡¯t know how to formulate my thoughts in my words. Rebekah stepped forward, handing me a cracked photo frame that had a picture of him on it and nothing I could have done could stop the flood of tears. I could have said a thousand different things. But instead, I bolted past them, to no place in mind except being far away from here. And in the back of my mind, the crushing visage of them shouting as I ran into the night plagued me as tears ran down my flush red cheeks. I¡¯m a coward to tell you the truth, nothing more. Hurt and Pain One Song It¡¯s been so lonely without you in my arms Every day keeps passing yet I yearn for you more I feel like a bird without its song Trapped alone down here without you But I know that I don¡¯t belong That heaven has no place for me beside you. So, the only thing I can do. Is to tell your truth. -Glory
I¡¯m an terrible person at lying, the worst you¡¯ve ever seen in Crystal Cove or any town near us. It¡¯s really bad. So when that man by the hot dog stand spotted my blotchy face and whizzed breath, he shouted to make sure I was okay. Naturally, I told him that I had forgotten my shoes at the local shoe export which was a sheer lie. I never even heard of a shoe export, and I certainly was too broke to buy anything. He didn¡¯t buy it, I could tell from his look that he knew I was lying but I simply couldn¡¯t bring myself to care. It was too late to call a cab or anything, so I just walked the streets, dreading every single moment that passed. I couldn¡¯t go back to the apartment complex, not after the stunt I had pulled. So with a heavy heart, I decided to continue my solo journey, walking to the only station in town. If I couldn¡¯t go back, the best I could do was go forward. The station wasn¡¯t too far ahead, but the temperature was freezing and the heavy snow made it hard to walk as if I was walking in mud. I was certainly lucky when I got to the station because I only had to wait ten minutes for a train to arrive and there weren¡¯t many people strolling about. The few that were standing under the green roof of the station were either drunk, lost, homeless, or some combination of the three. It was fun watching the crowd for a while. Night had a way of revealing the true nature of people and it was half tempting to figure out who everyone was. In the corner, a trio of drunk college girls laughed and bawled like crazy, their high shrieks piercing the night. While, on a different scale, a drunk man snored away on a worn bench, his frayed and tattered brown jacket wrapped around his thin form to protect against the bitter elements. But like most things in the world, the passing excitement of watching the crowd only temporarily distracted me from the feelings I so desperately wanted to hide from. I deserved it, I shouldn¡¯t have blown up at my friends but I was angry. Angry that the world kept throwing punches even though I was down, that people could have fun while I worried about where my next meal was, and the very fact that they could think that they were safe when my whole life was in constant danger. Life was unfair, it picked on people like me and avoided those who deserved it. And to make things even worse, today was the day I had lost Bernardo so everything was even more fucked up than usual. That¡¯s why I wanted to get on the train, to take me far away from everything so that I may forget my troubles and past. When the train arrived, the bubbling anticipation weaned and I found myself dreading the mechanical machine. Usually, I like riding trains at night when time permits itself, with the lights of the city down and the sky inky black so that even the dullest stars can shine bright in comparison to the skylight. But I wasn¡¯t quite in the mood as I stepped onto the train and walked towards an empty compartment in the back, picking up one of those cheesy magazines to occupy myself as I waited for the men in black suits to go down the halls, passing steaming cups of coffee to the passenger. It just felt different and depressing as I read about the growing AIDS epidemic in the local news article before throwing it at the seat opposite of me. Reading it made me angry and at this point, I just wanted to curl up in a bowl and do nothing. So I took off my hunting hat, and used it as a cushion against the hard window, closing my eyes and letting my mind drift. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. All of a sudden the train jerked forward, stirring me from my restless slumber as I watched three drunk men join my empty compartment. I watched them stumble toward my section before taking a seat, their clothes reeking of whisky and cigars that pervaded like a thick smog through the small space. They reminded me of my dad, that drunk bastard who spent all night at the bar and left me in the care of my psychotic mother. Watching them, I felt dread creep up on me, noticing mud splattered on their nice suits and the way their eyes darted across the compartment as if they were searching for trouble. Anyway, we were sitting there, alone and in the dark, and all of a sudden the ring leader of the gang spoke, another whiff of whisky hitting me full force, ¡°Hey faggot!¡± They were eyeing my coat, spotting the darn pin I wore that was decorated with the rainbow flag. I know I was corny for wearing it, but it was a gift given to me by Bernado who made me promise that I would always wear it. My silence didn¡¯t seem to bother them as they continued hollering and shouting degenerate terms at me. I had pulled my hat down over my ear in an attempt to block out the noise, wishing that I could disappear into the leather seat and hide with the shadows. Despite ignoring them, they continued hollering after me, giggling like a bunch of old-time friends who were having a lovely time and all. Pathetic really, a bunch of filthy pigs who could only knock down those who were already down. And they knew what they were doing, laughing as I fidgeted nervously with my coat. I hated them, they were not the last or the first. When I was kicked out of my parent¡¯s house back in Little Rock, Rhode Island, I was beaten up right in the alleyway by a sandwich shop as a fat-assed co sat in his cruiser nearly feet away, laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world, a real comedy those son of a bitches. It was times like these that made me wish I had Bernado¡¯s strength, he never let anyone make fun of him or his family. I wasn¡¯t like him, had no strength or anything and the best I could do was pray the train would stop soon. By the time we got to the next stop, I immediately left the train and entered a silent little train station just outside the outskirts of the city. My heart raced and I knelt underneath an arch, taking time to gather up my breath, breathing in the stinging cold. You wouldn¡¯t even believe it had snowed earlier at all. There was hardly any snow on the sidewalk except for miniature patches that glister underneath the city lamps, sparking like a thousand splendid dreams. But it was still cold, so I put on my hunting hat before suddenly my blood turned cold. God, my heart was jumping all over the place and I swore it was going to jump right out in the street as I turned, the familiar stench of whisky singed my nose. It was the three men back from the train, they must follow me, those clowns, trying to ruff me up. They sure as hell did just that, as I stepped back but I knew what was coming before they even did it. The leader of the group, the one with the hole in his front tooth, punched me. I didn¡¯t even have time to doge or even duck. All I felt was this stinging pain in my stomach. I wasn¡¯t knocked out though, because I remember being on my knees, staring down at the cold concrete as I tried to keep my lunch in me. The trouble was that I forgot to look up, and before I knew it, I was getting pummeled. They were punching me everywhere, ripping at my exposed skin and clothes as blood seeped out of my mouth. I tried to curl up, but they kicked me in the ribs till I sure as hell felt one of them break under the assault. Blood pooled around me, soaking me to the bone as I shivered, coughing up bile and more plasma. I was crying, tears, blood, and black vomit stinging my eyes and pouring down my face. A pretty depressing sight, don¡¯t you think? They continued to throw punches and kicks, I whimpering on the cold floor, wishing it all to stop as I cried for Bernado. Nobody was willing to help me, nobody at all. I was alone and the thought drove in with every single connected hit. Tom Gordon, the leader of the group as I found out later, just watched his goonies beat me up before grabbing my face roughly. On his finger, he wore two brass rings, plain ones that he had made in shop class when he was just a delinquent in high school. And I watched his fist rise up, out of my sight before it connected with my face, tearing into my bottom lip and shattering two of my teeth up to the gum line. I don¡¯t remember the rest, at that point I passed out, waking only to see their fleeting movement in the night as I lay there, shivering and cold. They stole my jacket, my hat, my dignity, and everything that mattered to me. The trouble was I thought I was dying, everything seemed so distant and far away, and a part of me wanted to give up then and there. I couldn¡¯t breathe, every breath sucked away all of my energy, and for a while, I thought of the news my body would bring. The movies lied, dying wasn¡¯t fun nor was it painless. I¡¯m not kidding. Just as I was about to blackout, a friendly light decided to illuminate my pathetic body, radiating it with warmth. It was just my luck, all the world could see my miserable self as I lay dying. And yet, as the world faded away and the bitterness inside me took hold, the last I remember was a gentle face picking me up. A part of me thought I was hallucinating, for a split second the charming smile on Bernardo¡¯s face welcomed me as he stared back at me. The world thought it was funny, pathetic really, I thought as I drifted off, closing my eyes as I breathed my last breath. Opposite Truth One Song A lighthouse in the dark. One Song To freeze the time, we had together. To keep it from flickering away One Song To tell your story. But I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t hold on. Without you beside me Anymore -Glory (Last Written Verse)
The silence turned to scream, the screams into festivities as Ryan blinked slowly, his lips thinned, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Ryan stumbled to his feet, wincing as he clutched his chest, instinctively clawing at his shirt as a wave of pain pierced through him. The pain was intense, tugging him forward but had started to dull until it dissipated into a painful memory. Everything was so different, one moment he was lying on the cold concrete, wishing for death release and the next he found himself in some sort of cellar. He had awoken on a bed of marigold petals that emanated a soft golden light. As his eye adjusted, he spotted a set of worn stairs that snaked below him, coiling up into the heavens. Empty bookshelves filled with cobwebs and the buildup of dust from time past lined the slick walls. He hesitated for a moment, carefully trying to pick apart his memory before he blacked out, but he drew a blank. The last thing he remembers was being on a train, streaking across the city horizon, and Bernado¡¯s crazy grin. The last part he suspected was just a hallucination, a dream he had before he woke up. Ryan stumbled again just as a searing pain shot through his chest, forcing him to double over. Despite the fact the marigold had stopped glowing, something seemed to give off life in here, as if this strange contraption was not as dark and dreary as he had thought. The universe thought it was fucking funny, playing with him like this. It was pathetic. With effort, he caught his breath, using his hand against the worn walls to steady himself as the air began to vibrate forcing him to step back as a whirlwind of petals lifted off the ground. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Shielding his eye away from the resplendent glare, Ryan just had a moment for his brain to process before it all disappeared. The petals crumbled away, fading with their golden glow but something appeared to take their place. The spirit¡¯s face was screwed up tight in a grimace, his finger knotted into the band strip of his jeans. He was wearing the same outfit he wore the day before he became ill, a hooded black leather jacket over a white tee, faded jeans, and a pair of off-white sneakers. ¡°Bernardo?¡± Ryan shouted, squinting in the radiance of his new form and unable to believe his own eyes. It has been nearly a year since he left him, and he remembers it as if it had happened yesterday. Thick tears streamed down his face, Bernado looked so young again as if God decided to give him one more chance. Bernado smiled, flashing a pair of brilliant teeth. ¡°Look at you,¡± he shouted, holding his arms out at his side. Everything about him conveyed youthful energy, he was no longer deathly pale and his ribs didn¡¯t stick out against his skin. It was the Bernado he knew before the virus took hold and took him away from him. ¡°Bernado, what are you doing here?¡± Ryan asked, his voice wavering as he closed the distance, hesitant and unsure of what to make of this strange and peculiar encounter. He shuddered, his thoughts dwelling on the unimaginable because if Ryan was here then he must have been¡­. ¡°You¡¯re not dead,¡± he whispered with keen interest, taking my hand as he used to when we took the ferry across the harbor. Ryan nodded. He smelt like the ocean from all those days working near the dock, it brought him back memories of waiting for him on the beach. It¡¯s been ages since he had held his hand and honestly, every nerve in his body was screaming out to touch him, to make sure he was real. Bernado laughed again, shaking his head with wild enthusiasm. ¡°I knew you would be fine,¡± he said with fierce pride, scuffing up my short hair. ¡°Nooo, I¡¯m not as strong as you, Bernado.¡± He drew in a breath, shaking as he fiddled with his hand as the pain of regret pierced through him. ¡°You have always been strong Ryan,¡± Bernodo whispered, leaning down to look him in the eye to let him know that he wasn¡¯t kidding. ¡°I want to show you something, can you smell it, Ryan? "From his fingertip, a golden thread sparked to life, shooting through the air and up the stairs to join with the raucous cacophony. Ryan shook his head, confused but also intrigued as the sound of scream seemed to grow louder into he felt it in his soul. Suddenly, he could smell the thick scent of peanuts! Hot roasted circus peanut drizzled with caramel! It was a circus of new sounds and scents, the cheery aroma of wood saw, the intoxicating aroma of cotton candy, and the thunderous odor of wild animals, it was simply waiting for them. And yet, despite the feeling of joy that surged inside of him at the notion of carnival game and food, the bitter feeling of remorse still stung him. After all, it was his fault that the last day they spent together, outside of the white prison they kept him in, was at a hospital. Since then, he refused to go despite the protest of those at the apartment, they were just a bitter reminder. But not this one. It was welcoming to both of them. The other feelings and smells were stronger as he took Bernardo¡¯s hand with confidence. Bernado drew himself up, grimacing like a madman as his infamous red basketball cap magically appeared on his head, ¡°Are you ready, my prince?¡± He nodded slightly, matching the wide grin Bernado wore from ear and ear. Following up the stairs and into the scream sounded both stupid and dumb but it was his best chance to figure out what the hell was going on. And Bernado was here with him so maybe things were not as bad as they seemed. Put Heartbreak to Rest When we walked out together, it was just getting light out. It was pretty cold but it felt good because I was sweating so damn much. I just couldn¡¯t believe the fact that Bernardo was here at my side, healthy and brimming with anxious energy. It was the Bernardo he knew before the virus took hold of him and sapped him of his strength while he lay meekly and at the mercy of the Nurses who flocked around his bed like vultures. The memory pained him, watching him slip away every day underneath the pile of scratchy blue linen. I kept thinking about what he last said to me, lying in a sea of cushions with the tangled web of wires around him, connected to an assortment of machines. You¡¯re the best thing that ever happened to me Rhy. Maybe I was. But I didn¡¯t know it then when his heart finally dropped and the nurse flocked in, shoving me out of the room as they frantically tried to start his heart. He died in that room without me that night, afraid and alone. They reached the top of the hill by the crazy war cannon, gazing at the far meadow below where the football stadium used to be back home. The air was as sweet as honey, with not a trace of winter but the faint crisp of summer. Long shadows stretched out before them, following the crowd of people who milled around, kicking up thick red dust that thickened the atmosphere. Below them stretched out a carnival, the multicolored tents standing out from the crowd like a bunch of exotic fruits surrounded by brass-like wheat fields. Bright-colored songbirds and iridescent flags swung in the light breeze which carried the carnivals¡¯ harmonious music far and wild throughout the entire town. Booths colored like cotton candy perpetrated the thick scent of fried waffles and hot dogs that swam in the air like fishes. It was amusing to think of it, watching the crazy plain carnival and thinking of the secrets it entailed. I loved these pop-up carnivals as a kid and the way they transformed an entire place overnight. You take an empty parking lot that most have forgotten and in a night it¡¯s suddenly packed with people as if it was Disney in summer. ¡°Do you remember what you told me?¡± Bernardo whispered, breaking the silence that we tentatively held since we first exited the room. I shook my head as I thought back to every conversation we had, the times we spent sitting underneath the stars and counting how many other people like us were doing the same, breathlessly running in the park until we fell in each other¡¯s laps, exhausted, and sneaking out late at night to hold hands. It was all painful, every one of them a stinging reminder of what I had lost without him at my side. ¡°You used to tell me about your Ma and how it used to be you two against the world,¡± he whispered back, taking a seat beneath the oak tree, ¡°No matter how hard she worked, she made sure to have your back. On your tenth birthday, you went to the fair. She saved up money for the last six months to get you something special. Your whole life was defined by this moment, this was the last time she said something nice to you so I thought to take you on one more ride.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Gentle tears caressed my cheek as I stared at him in wonder. I told him that nearly three years ago when we snuck out to point out constellations that we could spot on his roof, the hazy orange glow of the city obscured the night sky. It was a perfect evening, one that always remained inside of him in the darkest of moments but even I had forgotten what we talked about. Bernardo reached out, grasping my hand firmly before leading me down the hill to join the crowd. He bought me many tickets and then we rode everything together until the sun completely disappeared from the sky, blanketing the world in comforting darkness. I watched every person that walked past us and every time a person looked our way and made eye contact, my heart went haywire. I¡¯m worried about us, about what the world would think if they saw two guys holding hands. And it¡¯s impossible not to dwell on these feelings, he still tasted the blood in his mouth. But I wasn''t just watching a stranger, I was watching Bernado to make sure he didn''t leave again but I made sure my eyes did not give it away. But Bernardo gripped my hand, watching me with his moon-gray eyes. It was a silent gesture that meant the world, as long as he was here, he didn¡¯t have anything to fear. ¡°I¡¯ve got one more thing to show you before I take you somewhere else,¡± Bernardo shouted over the roaring crowd, the bright neon lights flashing in the night sky as I led me toward the Ferris Wheel. There was no line at all; we both walked up onto the ride, spending our last ticket as we pulled the seat belt tightly around us. I clenched my fist, painful memory bubbling up before I let go, allowing the thought of spending time with Bernardo to occupy the space in my head, casting away fear and doubt. This was the last ride I went on with my mother and the last I went with Bernardo. A grinding noise and a swell of music bring the ride to life as the metal pods begin to climb. Someone shrieked and then laughed, bliss overcame me as I shuffled closer to Bernardo''s frame. All my life I¡¯ve felt stuck on a Ferris Wheel. One moment I¡¯m on top of the world, sailing through life with the wind at my heels, unstoppable and fearless. Yet the next moment, I hit rock bottom and everything fell apart. Over and over again, an endless cycle of pain and heartbreak. That¡¯s the whole trouble with life. It keeps kicking once you¡¯re down. You can¡¯t find a moment¡¯s peace because it won¡¯t let you so you have to learn to live with pain and see the opposite for what it¡¯s worth. Because a lot of life is great. So I lean forward, my heart pounding in my throat as I intertwine our fingers. There was this twist in my stomach as I struggled to remember breathing. I¡¯ve missed this moment for a long time, so I briefly kissed him as the Ferris Wheel rolled to a stop at the top. And I can¡¯t even describe the feeling I was experiencing as if time itself slowed to a crawl. I wanted to stay with it forever as I pulled back, grinning like a madman as our pinkie intertwined, and screamed, at the top of my lungs to announce our happiness to the world, ¡°KINGS OF THE WORLD!¡± Some days I¡¯ve been at the top, others at the bottom but after today, I don¡¯t care as long as I¡¯m with Bernardo. Seeing Clearly Rolling down the window as they drove past gorgeous dark green coniferous edging the roadside and the winding Yorgrim river sneaking alongside them brought back memories of my life before Bernado. Until Bernado entered my life, I had been planning to leave behind Crystal Cove. It was my hometown but, in the end, just like everyone else, it turned its back on me and found nothing worth staying for. The only reason I stayed was because I lacked the money to move elsewhere. My deadbeat parents kicked me out at the young age of fifteen once they found out and the only place, I was welcome was the occasional city bench. Life was a living hell and that was all. And one day, I met Bernado. He showed me the other half, a different side of his hometown. He showed him that the dark day would pass, the family he made in the apartment building, and the places that the townsfolk didn¡¯t even know about. Every town in America has a community that hates queer folk like them, and Crystal Cove was no exception, but Bernado showed me how to find things to keep me going. He showed me the queer parts of town, places that thrived in the shadow and accepted who I was, and only then did I find comfort in a world that hated me for who I was. But everything fell apart when he collapsed. In a short period, I became a sailor without a ship, lost in a storm that swallowed my lighthouse. I was hit by waves of depression, each one worse than the next with my only comfort being my cigars and the hoodie he wore that I kept at my bedside that was lost when my stuff was removed. The screeching halt of Bernardo¡¯s truck snapped me back to reality. I¡¯ve been to the beaches surrounding Emerald Bay many times throughout my life, from a kid taken on family picnic tricks to being home for a few years. Yet, despite all the time I¡¯ve spent here, the mile-long crescent pebble stretches of land the locals call a beach still impressed me with its illusion of grandeur. The water was a sparkling shade of emerald, even as the sun peeked behind the horizon, as frosty white waves crested and broke against the rocky shoreline. It was breathtaking as they stepped out of the car, each one letting the silence soak into their souls as they breathed in the crisp sting of brackish water. ¡°Are you ready for our next location,¡± Bernado shouted over the roaring waves, his hair stuck in a perpetual cycle of bedhead. He reached out his hand and I grabbed it, following him down to the shore. Up close, the shoreline was even more breathtaking, a million smooth, large stones that looked uniformly gray at a distance but were a kaleidoscope of colors imaginable. Broken sea glass added to the illusion, refracting light onto a myriad of colors that splashed across the stones. They came in every possible shade of color, terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, and milky white and I couldn¡¯t help myself as I pocketed a few as we scrambled over a huge, bleached bone white piece of driftwood. There was a brisk wind that ruffled up our thin summer jacket, bringing with it the salty scent of the bay and the shrill shrieks of gulls that circled above. It was a beautiful day, cloudy except for a thin patch in the sky that was surrounded by a pale halo of blue. Up ahead, the stone-wrought arch of the Kissing Bridge loomed, and we both disappeared into the thicket, leaving behind the beach. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Bernado gripped my hand, leading me further into the thicket until we finally reached just beneath the Kissing Bridge. There was already a fire pit in place by the bridge, small flame flickering weakly in the breeze, clinging to life in their bed of black ash. My brownish-yellow tent was tucked underneath a huge birch tree, tattered and worn from the elements that battered it. It was just like I had left it and it felt strangely peaceful. ¡°This is where we first met,¡± Bernado exclaimed, stepping into the cool creek to point to the beginning of the trail where they had first laid eyes. Tears glistened in my eyes as I listened to his sweet words unlock the flood of memory that I had so desperately tried to push away. He was right of course; it was a July evening and he was kicked out of his parent¡¯s home. And just like me, he thought that Kissing Bridge was the ideal location for a temporary home for only stoners who came out this far anymore. I remember it was like yesterday, his golden auburn hair shining brightly in the summer evening as he asked me if he could join me for dinner. That was the beginning of our budding friendship, both of us teaming up to take the world one step at a time. ¡°Hey wait up Bernado!¡± I shouted, jumping into the creek as Bernado disappeared around the bend. The familiar outline of his mousy hair popped back up on the bridge and Bernado waved down at me, a huge Cheshire smile laid across his worn face. His laugh bounced across the tiny ravine, shocking a few birds from their perch as he disappeared again, stepping back down to meet me in the middle of the ravine. Brandishing his arm, he held a bag of Panda Express and taking my hand, led me to the tiny fire pit. We eat together in silence, wolfing down a steamy serving of Lo-Mein and Chicken as the fire crackles, warming our soaked clothing. Warm memory flickered across my mind as I thought back to the time we found out that we were successful in buying an apartment. Bernado used some of the funds we saved up to buy us Panda Express, our favorite fast-food restaurant, and we sat together by the fire, watching the little flaking ball of flames curl up and die on the brisk summer breeze. Then I pulled out my stereo and Bernado grabbed my hand and reluctantly I joined him as we splashed around in the creek. We were trying to dance but I had two left feet so it seemed as if they were splashing water on each other. It was one of the best moments of my life when everything seemed impossible. But just like the fire embers, their life was filled with only a fleeting moment of enjoyment before they crumbled away into black ash, swept up by the wind to be scattered across the world. Bernado grinned at me, weaving his finger through mine, ¡°Looking up at the stars reminds me of the possibility that we had.¡± I nodded silently, unsure of what to say as he continued, ¡°But our pain Rhy was not ourselves, it was the stars.¡± ¡°You know that whenever I was lonely, I would look up at the stars because I knew that you were finally among them,¡± I whispered, gripping his hand as I laid back to watch a circle of stars surrounded by green. Breathlessly, Bernado gripped my hand once we were tired of dancing and led me to the dark, vaguely unpleasant-smelling shadow of the Kissing Bridge where he struck a match and showed me the cruel graffiti written on the wall. Taking me by my hand, he showed me how cruel people were, but they did not affect them anymore. Maybe it was okay being a fire ember, to live life fleeting and short if every moment was spent like it was the last. Exhausted, I close my eyes, letting sleep take me so that I could wake up to another adventure. One Song When my alarm went off in the morning, I thought that I had dreamt about everything I had experienced with Bernado. The carnival, the nature hike, it was all an elaborate reality that I had conjured up to escape my feelings, or at least that¡¯s what my family back at the apartment would say if they heard about this. I groaned under my arm, feeling more exhausted than I was previously before I fell asleep. Reaching out, I leaned forward to grab my phone, blindly reaching to hit snooze while I mustered the strength to open my eyes. To find that everything was not a dream. And that I was in a car. In my panic, I scrambled back against the seatbelt, feeling the leather dig into my chest. I kicked a few pieces of trash that lay scattered across the floor, unable to comprehend anything Bernado was saying. The alarm continued to blare as I screamed, watching Bernado swerve to barely dodge a white SUV. ¡°FINALLY!¡± Bernado burst out, clearly annoyed at the ruckus I was making but smiling as he tossed me a breakfast sandwich from his bag. ¡°I¡¯ve been-you can stop screaming now-I¡¯ve been waiting for you to wake up!¡± My heart hammered painfully in my chest as I gripped the leather armrest, watching my finger turn a dull shade of white. Bernardo reached over, snatching my phone to kill the alarm as he carefully dodged another car. ¡°HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE,¡± I screamed. ¡°Wow wow wow Rhy,¡± Bernado exclaimed, putting up one of his hands defensively as the other gripped the wheel, ¡°I picked you up, simple as that.¡± Yeah simple, simple in giving me a heart attack. I felt like I was going to puke watching him accelerate the car as they swerved through lanes and dodged cars. He was always like this, a speed demon who had no concern for his or anyone¡¯s safety for the matter. In my sleepy daze, it took a moment for me to remember how to speak as I pushed back my messy mop of hair. I croaked, ¡°Slow down Bernado you¡¯re going to kill us.¡± Bernado¡¯s cocky smile was quickly replaced with a scowl as he slowed down. It was barely a difference as they continued to speed around the other cars on the highway but it helped to keep my stomach down. ¡°Here take this,¡± Bernado huffed, thrusting a scalding hot coffee into my hand. The amount of energy he had this morning was obscene. A thin smile crossed my face as I gracefully accepted the coffee, taking a sip before placing it in the cupholder between us. Despite everything, he still remembers that coffee was my literal lifeblood in the morning. Back at our apartment, we used to have this funny sign that we bought at a yard sale that we hung up in the dining room. Even back in the day, it used to crack us up in the morning, ¡°Sleep is for the dead so drink some Coffee!¡± I balled my fist, resisting the urge to cry as I thought back to the day, a hazy memory in a sea of thought. It wasn¡¯t our apartment anymore since I was recently kicked out. Bernado¡¯s eyes burned with wild energy as he swerved through lanes so quickly, that he was bound to cause an accident. ¡°So, I have a secret for today,¡± he asked unbothered as he lifted his tea to his lip, ¡°I was thinking something explosive.¡± I stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious or not. He stared back at me, unblinking as he swerved into another van. Whatever it was, it seemed to be important to Bernado to warrant his silence. So I pretended to look offended to get an answer out of him, but reluctantly he held his tongue for once and silently kept to the road. Maybe I was worried about whatever he had planned. Or maybe I was just scared that I¡¯d wake up without him at my side.
When they finally pulled into the parking lot alongside a huge apartment complex, the sun was nothing more than a smudge of burning red streaking across a pale sky. Streetlights slowly flickered on, lighting the road as we stepped out of the car. I for one was grateful to be on solid land, Bernado¡¯s reckless driving and the multiple near-death experiences did little to quell my anxiety. And knowing Bernardo, who still hadn¡¯t told me what we were doing or why we were in town, I suspected it had to do with the blasting reggaeton from a club down the block. Walking down the parking lot with Bernado bounding behind me, I kept thinking that this would be the last night I had with him. It wasn¡¯t a concrete thought, but more of a gut feeling that tugged at me. Yet, watching Bernado smile, I didn¡¯t have the stomach to tell him, instead choosing to push it aside as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this?¡± I groaned as a young couple bumped into us, the blaring music increasing with every step they took. Bernado bounded to him, synchronizing his steps and he exclaimed with a wild smile, ¡°Yes!¡± I tried to glare at him but only mustered a crooked smile, and exclaimed, ¡°You know this is my whole nightmare right Berny!¡± He shook his head, seemingly unbothered as he laughed. ¡°You¡¯re a musician, Rhys,¡± he said with mock sincerity, tugging on a playful devil mask as they neared the club and the source of the music. When PRISM was opened up in 1978, Bryan Peace originally thought that his club would be a hit sensation amongst bus riders and out-of-towners. Within a couple of years, Bryan feared bankruptcy when an amazing prosperity came out of the blue. Shortly, instead of turning a few bucks a night, he was instead making hundreds and even five hundred on a good night such as tonight. At first, his clientele consisted of young, polite, exclusively white males. Some of them dressed outrageously, but like anyone with a good business, Bryan kept to himself. Then as his place became quite popular, other queer folk began to appear almost nightly, and it wasn¡¯t till the 80s that he finally noticed that his patrons were almost exclusively Gay. But the club was making money and though Crystal Cove had four other bars, the PRISM was the only one in which his patrons did not regularly demolish the places. He assumed it was the fact that there was no woman to fight over, and these folk seem to have a secret to getting along unlike their counterparts who frequent the other bars. Once he came to the light of his Patreon, rumors seemed to circulate across town, leaping from one uncultured ear to the next-but privy to him, these rumors have been circulating since he first opened shop. And yet, to his knowledge, it seemed as if most of these enthusiastic tales were men who wouldn¡¯t be dragged by a chain into the PRISM for they fear that all their muscle would disintegrate or something else that was widely inaccurate. That was one thing I liked about Crystal Cove, the community was provincial and the smaller gay community understood the shadow that had been cast upon them. But despite it, they found a way to light up a beacon, shining hope to those darker crevices of society. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. They had been coming to this bar since it first opened up, but with their sickness and the hostility they faced together, it¡¯s been a while since they had come. Stepping into the neon club, with its bright strips of glowing colors that traced the outline of the building, was an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. In some ways, I was back to my roots but in others, I was a brutal reminder of Barnardo''s passing that haunted my memory. For such a huge group of people, I felt surprisingly invisible, and that for once, was a blessing in disguise. So much of my life was spent feeling like an exotic animal, forced to be under observation like a lab rat caught in a maze. But here, with the music pounding in my bones, I didn¡¯t have to be anyone. I could be myself. Everyone had shown up in costumes, or at least a mask that obscured each other¡¯s figures. That was how things were, everyone was themself and only pretended for their own sake and not society¡¯s. Mermaids, devils, detailed disguises, and crappy ones that people threw on at the last minute flooded the dance floor. Bernado was in his element. He always liked noisy places and noisy people, a whirling cyclone of energy that seemed most comfortable in chaos. Everyone cheered him on as he danced and drank, his devil mask glowing in the dark like a whimsical luminescent angel. Even though I used to be a frequent patron, I didn¡¯t recognize anyone and I had to keep reminding myself that nobody recognized me either. I was always scared of being in groups like this, fear of being singled out but I took a deep breath, joining Bernado in his wake of destruction in the center of the dance floor. The air smelled of smoke, alcohol, and a sea of bodies. They joined a group of people crowded around a guy in a horse mask, laughing as he gulped down a beer. Bernardo whooped and cheered, regularly bumping into people as he drunkenly pumped his fist. People here really didn¡¯t care, either they were inebriated to the point where they dulled their senses or so drunk off their merriment that nothing could change their mood. ¡°Beer?¡± a waitress asked, gesturing to the tray in his arm where a couple of glasses rested, foam spilling out over the cup edge. ¡°No,¡± I replied, tense with discomfort. Unlike Bernardo, I never was a casual partier as I watched the waiter slip away into the crowd. There were several reasons that I wouldn''t say I liked parties, one of them was the constant pressure to drink. It was weird being surrounded by a bunch of drunk adults, and it felt like everyone¡¯s eyes were on me. But I took a deep breath, reminding myself that nobody cared if I was drinking or not, and focused my attention back on Bernardo. It always amazed me how he wove between crowds as I tried to follow him deeper into the wave of bodies. A part of me wanted to reach out to him, but I couldn¡¯t as more and more people jostled me around till I was stuck in between an elaborate couple with fur and a rubber mask, a wolf and a deer. ¡°Hold on Bernardo,¡± I shouted after him as Bernardo disappeared behind a pair of angels before reappearing at my side. The music blared in his ear but it didn¡¯t seem to affect Bernado¡¯s voice for he heard him loud and clear. ¡°After this song, I have a surprise,¡± Bernado said, his cold breath tickling down my neck as he grabbed my arm before pushing ahead like a staunch crusade towards the band stage till they were front and center. The loud, pulsing music thumped in my chest as I closed my eyes, feeling the close press of the body nudge me like ocean waves, a steady ebb, and flow that matched the music. I felt it in my bones, a devouring sound that blocked out all voices except for Bernardo, a second heartbeat that pumped energy into me. Bernado swayed to my side, caught in a trance between life and death. He was strikingly handsome underneath the blacklight, his devil mask long abandoned, Bernado was achingly beautiful but in the way a thunderstorm is wild, rough, and electric but comforting simultaneously. Being around him was the closest chance I had to feel alive. Slowly they both opened their eyes and Bernado gripped his hand, leading him to the back of the stage. A thrill shot up my spine as we left the loud singing and random burst of laughter, retreating into the back room. ¡°My surprise is we are singing your song,¡± Bernado shouted, picking up a discarded guitar that was placed on top of a crate. He strummed a few strings, tuning it before staring at me, ¡°Let the world hear you sing Rhy.¡± I watched him silently for a moment, quite liking the mental image of Bernardo and me singing up alone on the stage, the whole world at the tip of our fingers. But fear held me, only he had heard me sing and the creeping dread of failure approached me. But something was different this time, dread ebbed away into excitement. I don¡¯t know if it was the fact Bernado was here with me or that the music numbed me down to my most bare sense. I think I was ready for the world to listen to me and the idea of singing with Bernado set my nerves on fire. ¡°Yeah,¡± I jerked my chin toward Bernardo, grabbing a guitar before plucking a few strings to tune it, ¡°Let¡¯s set the world on fire!¡± Bernado laughed, his face lit with enlightenment as he pumped his fist in the air. He grabbed his hand, directing him to the stage as the band members finished up. One by one, I watched the members leave, a collection of black and silver that cast deep shadows on the wall. Once they had disappeared into the back, Bryan stepped up on the stage, ¡°Our next band is called Division.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I heard our band name announced on stage. Following Bernardo¡¯s lead, I stepped up onto the stage, watching the sea of eyes stare at us in silence except for the occasional erupting giggles. This is my moment, I told myself, letting his eyes fall shut as he felt the icy finger of the air condition against the nap of his neck. He pressed closer to Bernardo, feeling his warmth and allowing his energy to flow through me. Bright lights flashed across my vision as I opened them, feeling the heat of the spotlight on us. Everyone seemed to be waiting on a precipice, the spell broken from the last song. I could fail. Or I could fly And today was a good day to fly. Bernado began with a catchy pop tune, strumming his guitar as the crowd began to jostle in movement, their body intertwined with the music. I raised the microphone to my face, strumming a mellow tune before shouting into the mic, ¡°Every day I wake up in the morning, With an ache in my chest, Missing you so deeply, It¡¯s hard to get rest, I, hurt myself today, Just to see if I feel, I wish I can kill it all away, But I still want to know, All the time we had together¡± The crowd roared, and I rode the wave of their excitement, turning to Bernado who raised his microphone. I continued to strum my guitar, watching him step close to me as he sang, ¡°One Song, That what I need, One Song, To tell the truth of our love, That rings true, like a blazing inferno, An eternal flame, One Song, To tell your story., But I can¡¯t hold on anymore.¡± All around them, the crowd was cheering but it was lost in the moment as I watched him, falling in love again as he carefully stepped to the side, his brown hairs glowing from the spotlight on him as if he was on fire. They were flying, riding on a wave of excitement that coursed through them. They were unstoppable, nothing could stop them as I picked up the mic, starting where Bernado left off, One Song, It¡¯s been so lonely without you in my arms, Every day keeps passing yet I yearn for you more, I feel like a bird without its song, Trapped alone down here without you, But I know that I don¡¯t belong, That heaven has no place for me beside you, So, the only thing I can do., Is to tell you the truth.¡± Another roar, another blast of ecstasy as they strummed their guitars in synchrony, a dance of motion. Colors flooded my visions, swirling streams of green and blue from my mellow melody while Bernado himself was a living God, lightened up with bright orange and yellow that brought tears of joy to me. I kept grimacing, smiling wide until my cheeks hurt from the excitement. It was better than anything, a roller coaster of emotions that flooded every nervous system till I was drunk off my happiness. Bernardo leaned forward as the crowd cheered him on. He turned to me, winking as he raised his microphone, ¡°One Song, It¡¯s been so lonely without you in my arms, Every day keeps passing yet I yearn for you more, I feel like a bird without its song, Trapped alone down here without you, But I know that I don¡¯t belong, That heaven has no place for me beside you, So, the only thing I can do. Is to tell your truth.¡± The energy in the club was bouncing off the walls as we both leaned in, staring into each other¡¯s souls as we sang the last verse, ¡°One Song, A lighthouse in the dark, One Song, To freeze the time, we had together, To keep it from flickering away, One Song, To tell your story, But I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t hold on, Without you beside me, Anymore¡± Time froze as they watched each other, before I leaned in, softly kissing him on the cheek as the spotlight focused down on us. The crowd cheered us on, a cacophony of madness that trembled in my bones. Nothing could stop us. And I was flying. Nothing Worth Loving Stays Suddenly, bright lights flashed across my vision. Straining above the crowd as the applause died down, I watched a wave of uneasiness shift through the crowd before flashlight beams cut through the motley-colored window. Somewhere on the backstage, somebody cut the music and without a moment¡¯s hesitation, a wave of murmur rose above the crowd. ¡°Cops!¡± I looked over at Bernardo, watching his stalwart expression change before his eyes. He was a living storm, alive in the same manner as lighting. But he wasn¡¯t angered or afraid, just annoyed at the transgression. All around them, voices crackled over loudspeakers, yelling, ¡°THIS IS THE POLICE. WE ARE CONDUCTING A SEARCH!¡± They sounded angry, a force to be reckoned with like a rising wave in the distance. This was most likely one of many gay bars they have raided, another day¡¯s work of harassment. Despite this, there were some in the crowds who looked just like Bernado. It was not enough for them to stand by the sideline, to remain silent against the force of oppression that beat down on them. But they had to forgo their identity, give up what meant the most to them, and hand it over for the sake of a perfect world. Today they had enough. After all, a perfect world was a perfect prison. Some people scattered, fleeing into the back room so that they could avoid the wrath of the descending storm. If I was there by myself I would have fled with them, referring to staying in the shadows where it was safe. I stepped off the stage, gripping a stray beer bottle, smashing it on a table with a loud bang, shards of glass exploding the world like a flower blossoming in the spring. Today was different, I felt alive for the first time in forever and I was willing to stand for the time was right to start believing in myself. Except Bernado grabbed my hand with one word printed on his stern face. I understood what he meant, fear bubbling up inside of me as I followed his lead, stumbling over broken chairs and bottles. COME ON By the time they reached the alleyway, a loud commotion inside the bar singled to them that the battle was underway, they both hunched over, gasping and wheezing so hard that their cheeks hurt. ¡°Bernado why did we leave,¡± I asked, gently touching his shoulder as I stared into the infinite expanse of his eyes. I was mad per se but it was unlike Bernado to turn away from a fight, especially one that hit so close to home. In the distance, the church bell began to toll, ringing in midnight-clad darkness and welcoming the new day. Bernado tried to say something but as the last chime rang, his voice died in his throat and his eyes rolled back in his head. ¡°BERNARDO!¡± I screamed, rushing to his side as I pushed away the trash lottery around his body. I didn¡¯t know what to do, or what was happening. Frantically, I pushed back the tears streaming down my face, pressing my palms to Bernado chest to check for a pulse but my hands sank right through him as if he wasn¡¯t there. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. He was flat on his back, Bernado¡¯s entire body convulsing. He flickered in and out of existence like one of those shitty youtube ghost videos, his finger scrabbling against the concrete floor. Terrible groans escaped from his throat as life struggled to keep him alive. Nobody was around us, my voice stuck in my throat as I watched him go limp, life fleeing from his broken form. And just before I feared the worst, he exhaled a wet, rattling breath, life pulsing through him once more as he struggled to get up. Tentatively, I reached over, helping him slide his back against the wall for support. ¡°It¡¯s okay Rhy,¡± he gasped in between labored breaths, clutching his side as he mustered up a grimace. Despite everything, he always had a smile across his face that seemed to lighten up every conversation. For a second I was momentarily confused. Somehow, despite almost dying, he regained enough strength to talk. And for a moment it looked like my hand passed through him, but that was impossible. I stammered, gripping his hand to make sure he didn¡¯t leave me again, ¡°I thought you almost died.¡± Bernado laughed, his amusement echoing across the tiny alleyway, ¡°Death is a normal process isn¡¯t it Rhy?¡± He winced, clutching at his side as he opened a beer, gulping it down with one single motion. ¡°I think we need to get you to a hospital,¡± I exclaimed, the possibility of another incident or lifetime disability sending bouts of fear throughout me. This time they could catch it before it got worse, I had a chance of redemption, a longer life with Bernado. Bernado shook his head, laughing as he got up to his feet. I followed him, mentally and physically preparing myself to catch him if he fell, ¡°Before I go I need you to listen to me Rhy about everything.¡± Dazed, I stepped back, my train of thought broken at once when he exclaimed he was leaving, ¡° What do you mean you¡¯re going? I thought we finally got together!¡± Bernado merely shook his head, his face wincing with every word I pronounced. It didn¡¯t matter that he was leaving but it seemed as if someone was making him leave against his will. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m going with you!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t come with me Ryan,¡± Bernado grabbed both of my hands, staring intensely into my eyes, ¡°Where I¡¯m going isn¡¯t ready for you, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Tears streamed down my face, carving gorges into my cheeks, ¡° What do you mean it¡¯s not ready? What are you not telling me?¡± The putrid stench of garbage and the acidic scent of sewage stung my eyes and assaulted my noise but it was nothing compared to the amount of pain in my voice. Bernado winced, gripping his side as he limped over to me, ¡° Listen to me okay? I will never abandon you at all. I heard every one of your prayers.¡± Tears flushed down his face, between the both of us, a steady steam coursed through the alleyway, ¡°You are not a coward at all. Everything I showed you proved that. The man I fell in love with was one of courage, you were brave when you were a kid, brave when you were fifteen and living homeless and you were brave enough to stand up for yourself just a minute ago. I¡¯ll always watch you, okay?¡± ¡°Wait what,¡± I cried, watching him give me one final hug before stepping back, his silhouette disappearing into a fine, spring mist. A tiny moonbow formed, his fallen ashes scattering lights as a final parting gift for me. A part of me died as I watched the mist be swept up by the wind, tears streaming down my face. I couldn¡¯t stop the torrent and I don¡¯t care anymore; I¡¯ve cried enough tears to scour this earth clean. But I was alone in the dark, my lantern swallowed by the sea. "RYAN!" At first, I thought I was just hearing things, a person¡¯s voice crying out my name, but I turned nonetheless, no longer caring anymore. A faint light shone at the end of the alleyway, a pale lantern amongst a sea of shadow. Another gust of wind blew down the alleyway and I tightened my jacket, watching Bernado mist float gracefully to the light. "RYAN WE ARE HERE!" Sometimes one had to take a blind leap of faith. And Bernado had never steered me wrong before. So, I decided to follow the light, hoping for an end to this misery while wishing for a closure I never got. Healing through Pain January 3rd, 1993 Dear friends, Since writing this letter, some amazing things have happened. Before I dig into what you might have missed the last three days, I¡¯ve been in the hospital for the past two weeks. Guess those old hateful men did a number on me as I was in a coma. The doctor told me when I came back that Kat and Miss Weathervane found me lying in the snow. I was completely out of it, foaming at my mouth and lying there surrounded by my blood. Miss Weathervane called an ambulance and Kat tried to stop the bleeding. But it didn¡¯t work well and so by the time I got to the hospital; they weren''t even sure I was going to make it. It''s pretty scary to hear that, that I was on death''s door and didn¡¯t even know it. All I remember is being in a fight, and then seeing Bernado before everything turned to an off-shade of white. Just before I knew it, I was awake, in a strange room with a beeping machine and some guys in lab coats started to surround me. They were hooking me up, and checking my vitals and luckily nothing was permanent. The first few weeks in the hospital were rough, they didn¡¯t let in anybody except Ole Miss Weathervane. She came to my bedside, asking me questions on how I feel which I answered to the best of my ability. I kinda figured out that everything I dreamt about Bernado was a dream, but Miss Weathervane told me that it was real, that nobody we lost disappears from our life. I kinda like that. The idea that Bernado is still watching me. When Miss Weathervane left, the doctors helped me work out a lot of things. They prescribed me some antidepressants and helped me through some of the heavy stuff I was dealing with. About Bernado. About my family. About being homeless. There are a lot of stages I found out, but they were great at helping me through them. The thing that helped me the most though was when they let me have visitors come into my little room. Kat would bring board games and we would play until the doctors told her to leave so that I could get rest. Scoops dropped by much to the disgust of the security guard, cracking jokes and bringing homemade food. Double and Rebekah brought in books, and we sat on the floor, listening to her tell stories of knights and dragons. And this time, I didn¡¯t shy away from them, they told me of the changes back at the complex, and that I could move in with Kat when I got out till, I found a place of my own. Things like that helped me a lot, it was a light at the end of the tunnel. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. And I learned a lot about myself too. The doctors told me that I should write a letter so that I could channel my feelings. To be honest, it has helped tremendously, reading my thoughts has opened up a new side of me. One of the most important things I learned was we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for things out of our control. When Bernado left, I believe it was my fault you see, everything revolved around him. Maybe if we had caught the disease faster, he would still be alive. And maybe if he never took me on our first date, then Bernado would never have caught it. And maybe if I had died before I was born then he would have had a different life. But I''m glad that I have been born, I don¡¯t know a life different from the one I''m in. I got to see my foster family happy, all circled me, laughing at jokes around my bedside. But that wasn¡¯t the point. Reminiscing didn¡¯t change anything. It wasn¡¯t going anywhere and nothing I did could change that. And it was hard, letting go of my hate towards the world but it was worth it in the end. When I got released, Kat drove me to the crazy hill near the rehabilitation center. It was early afternoon when she asked me to close my eyes. By the time we made it up the hill, to that crazy war cannon, she told me to open them and to my surprise everyone was there, my entire foster family celebrating in one giant picnic. And later that night, we decided to rent out a movie in Kat''s living room, all of us squeezed in like sardines around a tiny sofa, laughing while we ate dinner. That was the amazing part, seeing everyone happy and carefree. We were just together. And that was enough. Afterward, when everyone had gone their separate ways, Kat took me to the side of the room to hand me a box. Inside, Bernado''s jacket, neatly folded, lay tucked inside the little shoebox. She explained it was the last thing they had saved and that she was sorry for not being able to get anything else. But I didn''t care as I hugged her, tears gently falling both of our checks. So, if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that in the end, all things are good. And to whoever reads this, know that despite everything, nobody is truly alone in the world. It took me some time to learn but I believe the same about you. Somedays you just have to let go to see how high you can fly. Love Ryan Just the Beginning I folded the note in my pocket. Candles lined all the paths and graves for as far as the eye could see. Towering arches adorned elaborately with catholic symbols stood at the head of graves, sarcophagi, and mausoleums alike. Brightly colored flags and scattered bouquets laid neatly on the gravestone as I headed forth, passing by rows of burial sites. It was late spring, and the air felt electric and alive, like before a thunderstorm, bristling with anticipation. A storm was coming, I could feel it in my bones. I gripped the letter in my pockets, my other hand holding a bouquet of deep-red chrysanthemums in my other hand. Paths crisscrossed, a network of spiraling roads that thrummed with energy, each one blanketed by an assortment of petals and leaves. Finally, I stopped, tears gently falling from my cheeks as I sat down at the tombstone, head bowed in solace. The last time I was here was at Bernardo''s funeral where I watched his coffin be lowered into the earth. So much has changed, the upheaved soil now sprouted life, and flower petals adored his final resting place. Just like when he was alive, it radiated with energy, bringing back memories of the time they spent together. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The last time was to keep his memory preserved. This time was my goodbye. Carefully leaning forward, I laid the bouquet right under his plaque, surrounding it with light pink petals that lay scattered around me. I slipped my jacket off, carefully placing it on the lunette. It stung to leave behind the last possession of him, but I knew that in time it would heal as all things were done. Fishing the letter and picture out of my pocket, I slipped the letter underneath the bouquet so that the wind couldn¡¯t blow it away. The photo was a picture of our family at the picnic, the crazy war cannon right next to us as we smiled at the camera. We were happy then and I felt like he needed to see that. I knew that just as I had blamed myself for his death, Bernado felt guilt over leaving us behind. With every item I left on his stone, a pang of guilt riddled my body while simultaneously a weight was lifted from my shoulder. Stepping up, I whispered my last goodbye, tightly pulling my arms against my chest as a light breeze blew through me. Turning away, I headed to Kat''s black SUV, knowing that in the end, everything would be okay. It''s funny though. Sometimes saying goodbye is like the final chapter, but other times it''s just a way of remembering everything.