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    AC Benus
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Dignity - a novel - 7. Chapter 7: First Full Day

Chapter 7: First Full Day

 

I'm burning up.

My hand goes to my sweaty brow; I need to shield my sore eyes from this intense light and heat.

I know where I am. I'm standing in the middle of that famous Mohave Solar Farm I've seen on TV, and it appears every goddamn mirrored-panel in the whole joint is focused directly on me. I feel very wary, like I should keep a look out for danger coming from below. My lower legs and feet are numb standing on the squishy sand, and I see them as if through a haze. This fear in me is like a paranoia that some thing is out there; it's an anxiety that is fused the way molten glass is formed from raw sand, only the sand of my glass is frustration.

'This is all cuz hope is a phony fuking sham,' I think to myself. 'And I hate bullshit!'

I drop to my hands and knees. It feels temporarily good to be 'below the radar' of these shards of piercing light.

But soon the ground down here begins to burn my palms, knees, and the top of my feet. I crawl to get under the panels.

It's no good. Even under their cover, the shade still burns me. I scamper over the sand to try and find some relief.

I shout: "Why me!"

I stop dead. A rattlesnake rears up in front of me. The beaded sound of his tail is sharp in my ears, and drums out a slow and menacing beat.

The snake opens his mouth. Venom glistens colorless and like a teardrop from one fang.

This makes me mad. "What do you know about it? Who do you think you are!" I demand.

The thing only rattles louder.

'Fuk you,' I want to scream at the monster, but suddenly I am voiceless.

I try yelling again at the top of my lungs; no sound comes out, but my throat becomes very sore.

When l look again, the snake bleeds from his eyes, and has open gashes on his body. Suddenly, he strikes out for me blindly.

I leap to my feet, and the solar farm is gone. I stand alone in a Death Valley landscape.

I freeze, for out of the sand at my feet arises two boa constrictors. I hope they will not see me if I remain perfectly motionless, but they slither right up to my legs. Their forked tongues flicker out and 'smell' my sweat and raw emotions. They begin to wrap around my ankles, one from each direction. They coil themselves around my body, and each other, like a double helix.

I should be afraid, but all I feel is rage: 'No, no, no!'

When they wrap their way up to my face, they pause.

Their jaws unhinge, but instead of trying to swallow me, a pus-white vomit oozes from the sides of their mouths.

Suddenly, I'm free! I can move my arms, and the snakes are gone.

The desert is wide open before me.

I try to run, but I'm weighed down.

I glance at my feet; I am stuck up to my ankles in a shallow pit of bubbling tar.

Reaching down, I try to lift my leg out, but now I see my arm oozes with the stuff too. So does my other one. The nasty smell of raw oil sinks into my brain and sickens me.

I raise my hands above my head, shouting: "Why are you doing this to me!"

I am pissed off.

My mouth feels all weird. My hand comes down and removes a bunch of white feathers from it. "Phew, phew! – " I spit some out and try not to swallow others.

I scan down my front again, and my whole body is covered with downy white fluff: the feathers are caked on.

I don’t know what to do, but then a notion comes into my head.

I lift my 'wings,' and try to fly away.

I flap and flap; I feel air currents being created as my arms grow stronger and more and more like actual wings, but they also grow black. They spread out and enlarge, looking as sleek and powerful as that of a gigantic raven.

But no matter how I strain , no matter how I struggle, no amount of power and pissed-off determination can lift the weight of my tar-and-feathered body.

My eyes drift up as I let my head fall back in total frustration. The sun burns me mercilessly. But is so high above me, and so far away, that I want to scream at it – and yet, although my throat now burns too from the effort – not a goddamned sound emerges.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

I wake with a jolt.

Sleepily, I realize It was just a bad dream. My hands come up to rub my forehead mindlessly, and they are as sluggish as a pair of lead gloves. What they feel is a hot brow, and that the sweat there is anything but cool to my touch.

As I sit up and catch my breath, for some crap reason I do not understand, that asshole creep from the bus flashes through my mind.

"Fuk him," I say, and try to shake his image out of my head like a dog does a flea from his ear.

But then, in total relief, the sound of the surf calms me down.

I hung out by the ocean the whole day yesterday – my arrival day in L.A. – and watched the sun go down all orange and glorious from the soft sand of Santa Monica beach.

After I stocked up on some snacks, I walked around a bit, then laid out and looked up at the stars.

Later, I slipped on my sweatshirt, and found that the supports elevating the pier above the sand and surf makes a cozy place to bed down.

Now from under here, my eyes open on the first full day I'll have in La La Land, and I see I have peace and quiet.

I hug myself, and think it wasn't too cold last night, but maybe today I should invest in a light jacket. I didn't pack one, cuz who knew I'd need one in SoCal? LOL.

All around me, the dark-wet posts look like a manmade forest, and as I stretch my arms and pop shoulders, it reminds me of some old story I heard about Saint Francis waking up in the woods, naked, alone, but somehow, not afraid. That's how I want to be. I don't want to be pissed at the world, or fate, or God, or – maybe most of all – not at myself either. I want to let it all go.

I laugh. I guess old Saint Francis woke up to birdsong, but my wake-up call comes only with some cars rumbling along the Pacific Coast Highway not too far off.

I drag my bag towards me and pull out a pack of wet wipes.

I rise to my knees, whip off my sweatshirt and tee, and then go to town 'washing' my chest, belly, and especially my armpits.

What to wear, what to wear? LOL. I get out my light blue t-shirt with Underdog on it. Yes. Nice. It goes over my head, and I pull it down.

I glance around – just to be sure – then undo my jeans, and pull down my drawers. I use the wet wipes to scrub my junk, and as I do, I wonder where and when I'll have my next shower.

That task done, I button up and sit in the sand Indian-style. I grab my wallet and count my money: about $300, and some loose singles. So be it, and one hundred of which I still owe to Lyle.

As I put it away, I wonder about something, so I pull out my phone. Yep, selfie time!

I put on my best 'wish you were here' shit-eating smirk, and hold out my arm. Click. Click. Two shots from the front, and click, one angled slightly down to show the sand I am sitting on.

I know Dawn will love them, but I check them out right away. What's my real purpose? To see if my hair is ok! LOL. I don’t have a mirror, so why not? Just as I suspected, my blue-green bangs looks hot; I swoop my head to the side, and guess I was just born beautiful!

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

I've packed up, and am heading across Highway One to the subway station.

There is a little grocery that looks to be halfway between corner market and convenience mart, so I go in.

The guy behind the counter flashes me a big pearly smile – as friendly as can be.

"Morning," I say.

He nods. "Gonna be a hot one, I can tell."

As I browse the aisles, I think about him. He looks to be Indian or Pakistanian, in his mid 20's, and he couldn't possibly be any hotter himself; never mind the weather! He wears a tight black t-shirt that is sort of glossy – IDK – like it's partially silk, or something. Nestled between his pecs on this black field is a gold pendant the size of a quarter, only it's square. It hangs from a thick gold rope of twisted fibers, like the kind Rumpelstiltskin spun from straw. His arms are as striking as his chest, and a pair of slick gray slacks cinches his waist just right.

I think to myself, 'Yep, even the convenience store clerks out here in L.A. are hot. This guy probably has his own agent too, I wouldn’t doubt it for a moment. He's got the body, and a million-dollar smile, so why not?'

I put my stuff on the counter, dumping it on a pad advertising the California Lottery.

Again he smiles, and now I notice that sitting back there is a middle-aged woman. She's his mom, I guess.

He scans my selection and gives me the impression that he'd like to make a comment. His dreamboat eyes keep sliding off my Redbull cans and my Little Debbie snack cakes to appraise my frank stare at him.

He says something to his mom in a language I don’t get, and the older lady gives a brief laugh.

He starts to ring them up. "Need a bag?" he asks.

"A, what?" I stammer.

"New to town?"

"Um, yes. How'd ya know?"

He laughs through a big grin: "Because, here in L.A., if you want a bag, I have to charge you extra. Ten cents, ok?"

"Um, then – no bag." I swing my duffle around, plop it on the counter, and unzip. He drops in my stuff, but I grab one Little Debbie to keep out, and then pay him.

As I re-zip, he kicks his hands out on the counter, and intentionally or not – IDK – puts the strong inside of his arms on display for me. I nod, and I'm sure, I smile like a goofball, to which he says, "Have a good one!" And I swear to God, he actually winks at me.

I'm glad I don’t have a mirror, cuz I know I'm blushing.

"You too," I say. Then I shoulder my bag, and leave – leave with his sweet, manly smile still burned on my brain.

I walk towards the station and rip open my pair of Cosmic Cupcakes. I chew and think that I'm gonna do all my shopping there, cuz maybe Mr. T-Shirt and Gold Pendant has a younger bro 😉

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

On the train I stretch out and cross heel over ankle. I pull out my phone and send my sexy new pix to Dawn, with the following text:

 

Wishin U was here, c how peng all the ppl are! I found this hottie sleepin on the sand this morning. Luv U

[I am wishing you were here. See how beautiful all the people are! I found this hottie sleeping on sand this morning. I love you.]

 

I'll check back in a few hours. Maybe at lunch she'll have time to tell me what a lame dweeb I am, and then I'll know she still loves me too.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

I'm so excited. I can't believe what a great day I'm about to have!

Although the subway station is a little far, I walk the half-mile to my destination like it was only a few paces. And there it is, Universal Studios! Oh man…I can't wait.

The parking lot is huge, but finally I get to the entrance, or at least I think it is. It's like a town street, and the sign over the entryway says CityWalk. There's a big round tower as you come into it, and all around are cool shops! Like, there are stores selling t-shirts, and toys, and all kinds of movie crap. I'll have to remember to pick up a jacket here later on; maybe I'll get one with the studio's logo on it!

'Now, this is Hollywood,' I think to myself grinning.

I turn left, and the street continues with all sorts of contrasts; little bends in the road, and structures of different sizes and colors. Amid the restaurants and shops around this part of the street are fast-food joints.

This is a cool place. I'll be back for lunch, and dinner too. And, why not? I can be in the park all day, for one price, so why not stay? Too bad they don’t have a shower though, or do they..? I'll have to stay on the lookout for one.

At the end of this street, the space opens back up into a sort of plaza. The ticket gates are over to my right, and straight ahead, under a long red roof, is a whole line of lockers. Yey-a!

I go over, find one with a key in it, pay up and stow my bag. What a relief!

It's about 9:30 now, and as it's a weekday – Wednesday, I think, LOL – the lines to get in are all short.

Inside the park, I see SpongeBob SquarePants (or, as I like to call him, SquareBob SpongePants) strolling around. He's some small dude in a hot-as-hell-looking mascot costume. This poor 'actor' is being swamped by a pile of little kids trying to climb up his lederhosen, and dragging him down to his knees. The parents are circling like sharks with cameras, and clicking away. In the meantime, I think to myself, 'How come no one ever asks how a polyester sponge came to be living under the sea in the first place?' KWIM? I guess some mysteries are too deep to ever be known, LOL.

What to do first? A ride with no line, that's what! As I get deeper in the park, I see an attraction coming up on my right – Shrek 4-D – so I check it out.

As I start to navigate the maze of roped-off barriers, a girl dressed like the princess from the movie, calls out to me and undoes a stretchy ribbon.

"Come on," she urges. "The show's gonna start." I jog up, she shoves a pair of 3-D glasses into my hands, and leads me to a seat in the auditorium. She straps me in, and almost instantly the lights go off.

The 'show' turns out to be a 'ride' too, cuz when the film starts, the seats rise up like some kinda rollercoaster. This is so kool!

We dip, and fall, and are thrust this way and that as the Shrek adventure unfolds, and I love it.

Coming off the ride, I think I'll have to try that one again, later.

When I reappear outside, the sun is glinting off the pavement in a way that is almost blinding, but I see a sign with an arrow. Oh, yes. That's one I've been dreaming of.

I stay on the path, and keep following it to the right around a 'cement pond,' lol – well, we are in the right area for the Beverly Hillbillies!

Coming around the other side, I can see where I get in line for the Universal Studio Tour. There's more of a crowd here, parents with kids, and some young people like me too.

We board these things that are like half-bus, half-tram, and take off.

First we are driven around a really old set of buildings that look like they are from Europe or someplace; they're all stone and covered with flowering vines and shit. The tour guide says something about the 1923 version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame being filmed here.

We drive through some trees and stuff, and I notice that two rows in front of me are a group of kids about my age – two girls and two boys. As the guys have arms draped over the girls' shoulders, I assume they are couples. In profile I can see one guy is Latino with close-cropped hair. His girl is fair and has light hair, which is long and reddish. He drops a gentle kiss on the side of her head while she looks out on the moving scenery. I can make them out pretty well, because two little girls are sitting right in front of me and they don’t block anybody's view, LOL.

The second girl is a brunette with shorter hair, and her boyfriend is tall and lanky – like a basketball dude – with dirty-blond hair in a crew cut. He pokes his girl in her side, and she turns and yells with some hand-smacks: "Quit it already!" I have to chuckle, and in fact, all four of them do too.

The tram turns onto a side street of houses, and the tour guide says something about 'Wisteria Lane…' – IDK – never watched it.

At the end of the street, a really cool-looking Victorian house comes into view. There is something familiar about it…

Suddenly the cute Latino guy says, "See? That's the Munster's house!"

"Yeah!" I chime in, "1313 Mockingbird Lane!"

The boy bobs his head at me with smiling brown eyes.

"Yup," he says, and the other three turn to see who I am. I smile and nod, and the basketball dude raises the arm he has on the seat rest behind his girl to give me a low wave.

The tram turns again, and we see up on a low hill is the Psycho house.

"Norman!" the tall dude screeches, and tickles his girl.

"Shut up," she says, pretending not to be amused.

"Eeek, Eeek, Eeek," the Latin guy says and pretends to stab his chick, but does so with a big ole grin.

"You're dumb," she says flatly.

And again, I laugh with the boys.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

Phew! – The park is a lot more crowded now.

After the studio tour – which was really cool! – I wander around, and visit The Simpsons ride. Who knew baby Maggie could be such a hero – oooops! – did I give something away, LOL.

Now I'm winding my way through the line at Water World; a terrible movie, but the attraction looks cool, cuz it has dudes on jet skies and stuff.

Coming from the other direction, and about two hundred people ahead of me in line, the four teens from the studio tour are heading towards me. The 'not amused' girl is leading, and is having a hard time walking, cuz the tall guy has wrapped both his arms around her shoulders, and is leaning down with his head next to hers. Now I know why I thought he was a basketball dude – I can see he's wearing an orange and blue New York Knicks jersey tank top. Behind these two, the other pair walk with the girl turned backwards, and the short haired Latin guy guiding her along with his hands at her waist. He is facing towards me.

I inch past the basketball dude, but then when the Latino cutie sees me, he smiles.

"Hey," he says to me with flaring eyebrows.

"Hey," I say back with a grin.

We trudge along. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle; the video monitors here and there make for some distraction and promise that the 'ride' will be worth the wait.

Now we are all heading in the opposite direction from when we exchanged our greeting. But this time when we sync up, the Latin guy lifts the fabric ribbon of the barricade and says with a head gesture, "Come on."

I smile and duck in line to join them.

"'Sup, dude?" the Latin guy sings out warmly. "I'm David, that's Cordell," pointing to his girl with the pretty hair; then to the others, "that's Cliff, and Lawson."

"Hi," I say to one and all. "I'm Sean. Thanks!"

We continue to shuffle forward, and I think I can hear some faint grumblings of "He just cut in line…" coming from the losers behind me, hehehe.

Cliff asks, "Where you from?"

"Ohio. How 'bout you guys?"

"We're local," Lawson says. She shakes my hand, "Nice to meet you, Sean." Her eyes are pretty, a deep green, and with her hair short and dark as it is, they make her whole face come alive. In a moment, Cliff – maybe a bit jealous? – puts his arm around her again.

David asks in a totally bright tone: "You ever been here before?"

"Nope. First time."

"We come here about twice a month," Cordell offers in a sweet voice.

I laugh: "Wo. How jealous am I!"

"Have you been on Jurassic Park yet?" David asks with growing excitement.

"Un-uh."

"Well, wait. Do it after lunch, when it's hot, you'll get wet on that ride, and it'll cool ya down."

"Awesome."

Both girls give me look and a smile, before glancing at each other. It seems they like what they see, LOL. Girls, go figure!

Copyright © 2017 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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What a dream! Does the sequence of deadly threats represent the bouts of cancer? He struggles defiantly until waking, then appears to shrug it off, determined to have a little fun.

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On 06/08/2014 08:37 AM, knotme said:
What a dream! Does the sequence of deadly threats represent the bouts of cancer? He struggles defiantly until waking, then appears to shrug it off, determined to have a little fun.
I can't say too much here...my hands are bound, so to speak, but there is a particular word that others may want to find relating to the subconscious' use of the dream cycle for health matters. Did I say too much..?
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I'll tell you - Jack/Sean certainly knows how to have fun! :)

 

And he's so confident, hanging out at the park all by himself. Now it seems like he met a nice group of kids. :)

 

At fifteen, I would have never had the confidence to go through a park like that all alone. It wouldn't be any fun for me, but Jack/Sean doesn't care - he makes his own fun! :)

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On 06/10/2014 12:27 PM, Lisa said:
I'll tell you - Jack/Sean certainly knows how to have fun! :)

 

And he's so confident, hanging out at the park all by himself. Now it seems like he met a nice group of kids. :)

 

At fifteen, I would have never had the confidence to go through a park like that all alone. It wouldn't be any fun for me, but Jack/Sean doesn't care - he makes his own fun! :)

Yes. Maybe Jack is forced to care, but Sean left him behind in Cincy, except maybe when he dreams.

 

Sean is carefree, and maybe that is not a good thing for him, but who am i to judge?

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So good to see Jack/Sean enjoying himself and his freedom, though that dream was nasty. However, it doesn't seem to plague him in his waking hours which are filled with new things to enjoy. So glad for him that he has this time, this great escape.

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On 07/30/2014 03:03 AM, Jaro_423 said:
So good to see Jack/Sean enjoying himself and his freedom, though that dream was nasty. However, it doesn't seem to plague him in his waking hours which are filled with new things to enjoy. So glad for him that he has this time, this great escape.
I hope you are starting to see a broader significance in the nature of Jack's dreams.

 

If you have ideas, please share them on the forum for this book. That would be nice to explore in a back and forth nature. Thank you once again. http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/39075-dignity-a-novel-by-ac-benus/

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Going from feeling powerless and angry at the world to just being 15 in a matter of moments. And totally believable too. Great writing!

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On 06/18/2015 06:01 AM, Puppilull said:

Going from feeling powerless and angry at the world to just being 15 in a matter of moments. And totally believable too. Great writing!

Yes, his dreams are trying to tell him something. But I suppose being young means you do not linger on things, but it also means that kids do not hold grudges, so it's both a wonderful and frustrating trait to witness.

 

I hope you enjoyed his morning at the amusement park, I know Sean did! Hehe.

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