Secret Author
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Everything posted by Secret Author
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The completely true tale of a young man taking part in his first Pride.
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Jamie knew something was wrong the second his phone buzzed at 3:17 a.m. Not “drunk friend needs a ride” wrong. Not even “thirst trap from a pair of hairy legs in stilettos and a MAGA thong sharing a suspicious link” wrong. This was a very specific kind of gay existential dread. He groaned, blindly pawed at his nightstand, and cracked one bleary eye at the screen. RyIP has tapped you. RyIP: Boo. Jamie blinked. Then blinked again. That was Riley’s handl
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Kirby Dean sensed in his gut that something was wrong. It had been a while since he heard the sound of his husband whistling tunes from “My Fair Lady” while scurrying about in the garden. Being in the garden was a special time when the octogenarian often lost himself to the task of tending to his precious roses, finding delight in pruning, watering, and gently coaxing each blossom. He was particularly proud of his Septima’s Potential rose, the award-winning lavender-and-peach colored hybrid that
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Futuristic tale of human and cyborg survivors dealing with the death of an octogenarian history professor.
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The gray eyes of the boy in the photo were narrowed, staring sideways at me with the classic MacGregor stink eye. I imagined him glaring at the photographer, wondering why this stranger kept telling him to smile. He was having none of it. Despite appearing to be around four-years-old, I recognized those eyes as those of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man I’d seen periodically throughout my life. My heart pounded as I stared back, somehow sure the boy could feel my bewilderment. The black and w
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My phone was ringing, but I ignored it and shoved my head under the pillow, hoping whoever it was would just go away. I had a brutal hangover and was in no shape to deal with anyone. It stopped, and I felt a glimmer of relief, then it started right up again. Only one person was that persistent: CC. If I didn’t answer, she’d just keep harassing me until I gave in. I groaned and hit accept, already regretting it. “I’m fucking hungover, and I don’t wanna talk to anyone,” I snapped. “Uh-hu
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“What do you think?” Jovan watched Arden peer through a knothole. “You’re right. It’s the same building.” His friend stepped back from the fence. “But it looks like it’s been abandoned for years. How’s that possible?” He picked at a peeling corner of one of the many posters plastered all over the worn planks. “That band toured the city last year.” “I asked the guy working at The Bumpy Bagel this morning about the building.” “The what?” Jovan pointed to the left, where a sign
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I have always been considered an old soul. By my parents, my teachers, and my friends. My parents said it made me responsible. My teachers said it contributed to my success as a student. My friends said it made me boring. I suspect my friends were probably right, but I didn't care. It was 9 p.m., and all I wanted was to be in my cozy dorm room, either watching a show or reading a book, enjoying a dull but pleasant Friday night. However, my classmate-turned-friend-turned-crush, Oliver, ha
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I am hiding the truth from everyone I know. I have a secret life that I’m keeping. Is it hard? Surprisingly, no. Not a single family member, friend, coworker, or acquaintance is aware of the double life I lead. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure every last one of us has something we hide from the rest of the world. I’m not saying that no one knows about my hidden life. Plenty of people know. They’re just part of a different segment of people I deal with. I’m a normal person. I have a
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For-Ever Young May the good Lord be with ya down every road you roam And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home And may you grow to be proud, dignified, and true And do unto others as you would have done to you Be courageous and be brave And in my heart you'll always stay Forever young, forever young Forever young, forever young May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong Build a stairway to heaven with a prince
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The Journal of Tom Callahan, July 22nd, 1890 I don’t know how to convey this fantastical journey beyond this journal. Some folks would think I had gone mad and have taken me to one of the hospitals for unnatural thoughts, where they might cut out a piece of my brain for study or something like that. However, it all happened, and I have many eyewitnesses, who had experienced something similar. Of course, the adults would deny what they experienced, especially the men, who prayed
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I buried my dreams in a teapot. Admittedly, it was an unusual resting place, hardly one for remnants of a youthful past steeped in joyful todays and hopeful tomorrows. They ought to be nestled in a poetry book, kissed by words of love and effusions of rebellion. They ought to be tucked under pillows, their soft rustle a lullaby during the coldest of nights. Instead, they were entombed in a common ceramic teapot, whose squat stature painted a bygone style, whose hefty weight belied ingrained frag
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Beep. Beep. On the third chirp, his eyes fluttered open. The surroundings were foreign. A firm bed, a sterile odor, and a dull headache filled his senses. Groggy and weary, he tried to make sense of things. Beep. After watching countless hours of television, he recognized the sound. The beeping belonged to a heart monitor. “Hospital,” he thought. “Wonder how I got here.” He shifted in the bed, discovering his left arm was in a cast. A door opened, and before he could lo
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1 - A Major Surprise Kaira leaned back in her chair and sighed. Man, it had been a helluva shift. A major pile-up on I-95 just over the border had brought several ambulances with severely injured patients that other hospitals could not accommodate. As the area's only level one trauma center, they serviced a wide territory. In addition to the accident on the interstate, they also received a Life Flight with a twelve-year-old who was attacked by a shark while swimming at Tybee Island. T
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"Blue! Get up, breakfast is ready!" Koa Māhoe, Blue's father, called up the stairs from the kitchen doorway. "It's getting cold." Turning to his partner, Frank Rivers, he said, "Doesn't that kid have an alarm clock?" Frank sat at the breakfast table and chuckled. "Don't get so wound up, K. He's got a phone. He knows he has an appointment." Frank scraped up the last of his cereal. "And he's a kid." "He's nearly eighteen," Koa said, sitting down and pouring a cup of coffee from the caraf
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I was watching my best friend lose his mind. Maison dropped prone on the floor to peer under the couch, then up to his feet, turned in a full circle, and raced from the room. I’ve been watching him do the same routine for about ten a minutes. It was beginning to almost resemble a choreographed dance. I continued to watch as he strode back in the room, predicting that he would now spin in a circle, which he did, then pull on his hair. The next step would have him dart past me into the k
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Muahahahaha!
