Monday, April 29, 2013

My Turn Again?...

Good morning! Grab your coffee and come on in, sit a spell. I've started a new project, something a little bit different for me, and well. Since you're here, I thought maybe you'd like a little advance sneak peek at it.

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! 

No comments:

Post a Comment