Fishwings
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t w e n t y t w o Throughout the ride, nothing was relevant to Rover. Growling from the engine, static voices next to his ear, bumps and booming basses outside; they all slid off him like mercury on ice. He couldn't see anything other than the persistent blanket of darkness in front of his eyes, could taste nothing except the harsh cloth wedged in his mouth, and could feel nothing but the smooth leather underneath his fingertips. There was no fear, no anger, no disappointment. He w
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t w e n t y o n e Harsh light of the sun stole through Rover's eyelids, illuminating his dreams in a bright red flare. He felt heavy. His limbs were sore and his muscles stiff, but a peculiar sensation had him squirming and sighing with content. It took him a moment to register that they were hands running gently through his scalp, massaging out his headache; rousing him to wake. He cracked his eyes open, and found himself nose to nose with Slade. He was so close, everything but his eyes we
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t w e n t y Warmth. Thick sheets beneath his fingers. Drowsy and heavy eyelids. Feeling safe. Gentle fingers, silky and fleeting, traced his bare back. They stopped at this point and that, resting on each hill of his spine; skipping butterflies pausing to visit a line of flowers. A wave of pleasant chills shook his body. Then, a warm liquid touched a numb spot on his thigh. Rover squirmed, then froze at the smell. The iron stench of blood. A sight of a body being gored t
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n i n e t e e n Noise and darkness. Sinking and falling. Pinpricks of pain and a blizzard of sparks, swirling and filling his vision. Rover was trapped in a void in between consciousness and coma. Neither awake or asleep, he dreamed with open eyes, feeling the explosive agony in the side of his head escalate to an eerie numbness. His thoughts were in a disarray. Worries and concerns lost their meanings, and Rover was left feeling empty. He was a starfish out of water; too simplistic to
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e i g h t e e n With every step he took towards the crashed ship, Rover felt more and more compelled to go on. At first he wondered why, but soon those thoughts died. His fear dissipated, and eventually his head was a cloud of muted feelings. It felt sluggish. He could barely think, let alone see. And when the voices that were but his thoughts had all shut down, he felt another presence enter his mind. It didn't probe like a curious animal, but fell over him like a blanket. At first he co
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s e v e n t e e n Slade stood up, offering Rover his hand. "I think it's best if I show you." "Show me?" Rover asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "What's there to like, show?" Slade's voice was strange, a mixture of mockery and heavy honesty, but his words were even stranger. "My parent's grave." Rover stood staring, and then voiced the only thought that came to his head. "A crashed spaceship?" Slade smiled. "No, a crashed flying pirate ship." Then he pulled Rover to his feet. The
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s i x t e e n Rover was certain he was going to die. He knew he should have plunged to certain death. He knew his remains would then have lain at the bottom for weeks while the bodyguards looked everywhere, and it would have sat rotting for months while the police organized a hopeless hunt. And when what's left of his body had been found, it would not have been cremated, because there would be no
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f i f t e e n Rover just stared, completely mummified from confusion. He ignored the earnest tone of Slade's voice and concluded that he was suffering from some mental illness. They stood under the moonlight, river running alongside of them, looking at each other. Rover struggling to keep his expression blank and Slade's face twisted in heart breaking pain, full of hope and desperation. A minute passed. Two minutes. "Okay," Rover finally said, his voice cracking, "so, uh, where's your
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f o u r t e e n Rover had never been in a forest at night. The times he had gone out of the city were when he was much younger. His father had maintained a close relationship with all his siblings, and so that was how his uncle had been able to pull Rover out of his father's grasp for a few days of excitement. They had gone white water rafting, sailing, rock climbing, and many other activities that Rover could never forget. Those golden days had been limited, as his father's business grew s
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t h i r t e e n George's place was cradled near a forest near downtown. The busy buzz of city life was nearby, but it was far enough so that the roar of traffic was all but a gentle hum in the wind. Here was the perfect place for a weekend getaway. "What happened?" Rover asked urgently as Somerset pulled snugly into the large driveway, behind fifty other cars. The house was impressive -- something his father would probably consider buying -- with looming white pillars and many shelves of ba
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t w e l v e "Sett!" Rover threw open the bedroom door. Somerset jumped at the sudden disturbance, brown eyes snapping up from the TV. "What the fuck?" He sat up cautiously, disheveling his blankets. Rover opened his mouth, trying to form words, but only managed an exhale. He waited a few moments, then tried again. "Them... they..." "What?" Somerset frowned, stretching a hand to scratch his head. "What's with you?" "Body guards," Rover choked out. Somerset blinked, then leapt up from t
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e l e v e n Somerset brought the taboo subject to breakfast the next morning. "Look," he said slowly. "I know I said that I wouldn't mention your father again, but isn't there shit you'd like to get from your home?" "My father's home," Rover corrected with a growl, meeting Somerset's cautious eyes with a glare for a moment. He then stared at the glass of milk in his hand and the plate of steaming pancakes in front, debating which to upturn on his friend's head before omitting both c
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t e n Rover woke up to darkness and a throbbing head. It took him a moment to realize that something was covering his face, and he reached up to remove the folded warm cloth. He blinked twice to clear his blurry vision, and when his eyes had cleared, he saw that Somerset was busy dabbing at a cut on Rover's thigh. Rover's lips curled into a tired smile, but he made no move to greet his friend. This was the first time that Somerset was tending to Rover's injuries, as it was alw
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n i n e Rover was falling again. Legs flailing and limbs twisting, he plunged down a deep abyss. He knew it would hurt when he reached the bottom. However, the most horrific thought that plagued him wasn't the thought of the actual pain he would feel when his body would crash into the dark floor of rock so many floors beneath, but the thought of the impossible task of scaling the walls of the hole he had fallen in order to get back out. How would he accomplish such a feat? How could he
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e i g h t Rover screamed like he'd never screamed like before. He screamed like Mariah Carey at her worst. And for some crazy reason, as he was falling, he knew that he was screaming like a dying dolphin and felt perfectly justified in doing so. The wind filled his ears and his mouth; the city rushed by in a whirl of neon. His stomach was a hurricane. In the short moments of the free fall, despite his explosive terror, the boy -- still with his arms wrapped tightly aroun
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s e v e n Rover recognized him immediately as the boy who he had seen earlier in the day, when he was doing the block run. Just before he decided to hide himself for some unknown reason, and just before he flew headlong into that Stop sign. Rover's first instinct was to blame everything on this punk, but he couldn't utter a single word. How could he when he facing someone who took all his breath away? An immaculately chiseled face, tapered into a sharp, streamlined jaw t
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s i x Ten years ago, Kenneth Stilles was a loving father. Back then, he was a gentle, controlled being, and aimed to keep his emotions from showing. So successful he was that it was hard to tell him from happy to sad. He always seemed to be wearing a stern mask, but Rover didn't mind, as his father didn't raise his voice. As a matter of fact, he never talked much, but Rover had been fine with that too. Rover's mom, Alexandria Stilles did all of the talking, and she was the noisiest in the
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f i v e The open door poured a torrent of light from the hallway, throwing his father's figure into an imposing silhouette. All thoughts of fixing things disappeared from Rover's mind, as he stood rooted to the spot. His father took a step in, shedding the silhouette, and the moonbeams sought out his face. His hair should have been swept to the back, but the night of booze disheveled his style. His once blond hair was now silver, but his eyes still shared the same stunning blue as his so
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f o u r It was cold -- a winter locked inside a palace on a summer day. The output from the air conditioner rushed down from slim vents in the arching ceiling, cradled by strong black pillars. The walls were ghostly white, the many floors suspended by a spider web of cables. Wisps of fresh dust swept into the spacious room. Rover trembled, his limbs rocking underneath him, unsure whether he was shaking because of the temperature or because he was nervous. He felt like there was a st
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t h r e e "Holy fuck, did you get hit by another baseball bat?" Rover scowled and brushed past his friend, pushing through into the locker room. He had to go home soon -- his ride had to be waiting by now. "Hell no. No way that could happen in a block run." Somerset grinned. "Well," he reasoned, "anything could happen to you bro. If someone didn't hit you by accident, then how'd you get covered up in blood?" Rover paused in the midst of removing his shirt. He reached up and felt hi
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t w o It all began with Rover tripping into a damned Stop Sign. Bright, proud, red, and gleaming iridescently in the sun, it stood erect and lonesome on the edge of a sidewalk, the brightest source of colour in the middle of the street. It was attention absorbing, impossible to miss. But Rover's mind was not with him that day as he breezed through his three-times-a-week, right after lunch, far-from-pleasant block run. He knew that a little three mile run around the neighbourhood was
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o n e Rover trembled as he climbed the stairs wrought outside the nightclub, wondering why the breeze that swept through a mid-summer's night could be so chilling. Laboriously, step after step, he worked his sore legs. His breath was short and with every pant he exhaled, a piercing bout of pain ignited through his side. He wasn't sure what exactly was injured, or how bad it was, as the kick his father had given him was slightly harder than usual and his headache pounded excruciatingly en
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On the night Rover Stilles flees from a psychopathic father, he meets the alluring Slade, a boy as beautiful as he is mysterious. Becoming enamored with him was more than Rover could ever ask for as secrets truly "out of this world" are slowly, and reluctantly, revealed. Rover must put forth his courage, resolve, and faith to the ultimate test as he evades his father's ruthless grasp and all the dangerous uncertainty that surrounds his new found acquaintance.
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Are you just expressing your preference or do you actually have something against men who have androgynous qualities?
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Seven. The ring of the alarm clock was all but a faint buzz, a half hearted attempt. I was awake but falling, sweat pouring from my forehead, false gravity tugging at the tendons beneath my muscles. Thump. With great difficulty, I pulled myself out of the sheets, scratching the remains of the nightmare from my head. Breathe. I stood by the mirror for a long time, erasing shadows, guns, the thick scent of blood from my eyes, and drew a long sigh. Most nightmares I could wake up from,
