Not going to shilly-shally around much either, because, I"m kind of anxious to get back into it, you know?
This Dan Skinner photo is part of the inspiration for this piece....
Every
Note
Chapter
One
Ray
Bradbury's Dandelion Wine was Casey Addison's favorite book. It had held that
place of honor since a sophomore English teacher made it assigned reading to
her sixth period advanced placement class. In the twenty years since he'd read
it the first time, he'd never been without a copy, some battered thrift store
finds, others hard-backed and leather bound. He'd worn out more copies of
Dandelion Wine than Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven. He'd even traveled to
California to have a copy signed at the Long Beach Festival of books by the
great man himself. The novel was an unusual choice, but the single scene that
cemented it forever in Casey's memory was a short passage in which the main
character realized he was alive.
Casey
revered that scene because he could pinpoint the exact moment in his own life
when he realized he was alive. It wasn't anything so poetically prosaic as
picking grapes on a beautiful summer day. It wasn't anything special at all,
just another new school in another new town that his parents had moved them all
to. Then again, it was the exact moment he realized he was gay, and in love.
He'd
walked into yet another new classroom in yet another new school, and his eyes
landed on another boy, and for the first time ever Casey realized that air
rushed through his nostrils to his lungs. Before that moment he'd breathed.
Presumably for the prior twelve years of his life he'd done his small part to
keep the balance between oxygen and carbon dioxide stable.
But
for the first time his breath caught in his throat and he was forced to
actually think about what had always been an involuntary action before.
Not
only that, but he became aware of a thundering beat in his ears that had all
the rhythm and twice the speed of his favorite drummer of all time, Neil Peart.
Later he realized that pounding beat was his heart racing, just as the strange
roar in his ears wasn't a crowd at a concert but his blood stinging its way
through his veins to make his skin prickle and his arm hair stand on end.
Worst
of all, his pecker just stood right up and poked at the front of his board
shorts like God and everybody wasn't standing there eyeing him with all the
disdain a class full of strangers could muster.
Embarrassed,
he flung himself into the first available seat, and trained his gaze steadily
on the white board at the front of the room. Even the rambling lines of purple
ink weren't enough to vanquish the image of the boy who'd caused his world to
spin on its axis. Over long white blond hair, golden tan skin, gold tipped
thick lashes fringing vibrant green eyes…that image lurked in his thirteen year
old mind with as much intensity as though they stood nose to nose.
Meeting
Dylan Salisbury had been the changing point in his life. He'd become alive in
that moment. Forever after he might forget sometimes that he breathed, but
never in Dylan's presence.
Thanks for reading! Check back next week when I am not really sure who will be here, but some Story Orgiasts will be popping by with a bit of something to wet your appetite!
