The Artists - 7. So Wrong

The errant sits upon the fallen rock
Eagles and other beings of the sky
Soar up to touch the Power within
Chapter 15, v. 18-20

He was upon that rock. He’d been here before when cast down from the five aeries. At home in Portland, two bald eagles nested atop a tall fir tree on the lower reaches of their property. Someone further up the hill paid them to cut off the tops of their trees to improve his view. Six watched the eagles soar and reel in the sky, but they were very protective of their home and he never went near that tree.

Six did not want to go home. His mother was not a believer in the Power or anything else for that matter. She wasn’t even a practicing Christian. “I’m not having any of that mumbo-jumbo. Besides it’s for children, not adults,” she’d say if asked if she was a Christian. Yet, at the door when an evangelist would come to proselytize, she’d lie through her teeth, “Yes, I have been saved so I don’t need to be attending your church to be saved all over again. Thank you and have a nice day.”

How could he explain the need to get up to the crystal? To reach out with tentative fingers and see the Peace and Power only a breath away, that was the goal, but it was weeks, months sometimes, to merely reach the mountain. For some reason Six hadn’t figured out, the mountain never seemed to be in the same place in his mind. He’d follow a path thinking he remembered this stone, that shrub, a flower, a glade of sunlight, or simply a toad squatting in a tiny puddle on a large boulder.

He’d meditate for hours on that toad. It was such an ordinary toad, but he knew there was some hidden meaning. It was trying to tell him something, everything on the journey to the mountain had meaning if you sought it. The toad looked so serene crouching there at peace with its existence and still Six sought the higher Power.

He sought that briefest of moments when the Power reached out of the crystal and their fingers nearly met. Power surged within him and, invariably, or as had happened on all the previous occasions, he’d fall back barely accepting half of what was being offered. He was too weak of mind and spirit.

All that was before, though; now he was finding the mountain easier. He finally realized he didn’t have to take the rough path, sometimes the level path led straight to the mountain. Not only that, it led right to a path leading up through the talus to the first cliff and beyond that to the first aerie.

Unfortunately, Six committed too many sins in one day and he was in danger of being sent home. These people were not going to help him any more than his mother might help.

The shopkeeper has his dutiful customers
The nanny keeps her charges straight
The errant has a heart full of hate and deceit
Woe be it to seek the Power with that heart
Chapter 8, v. 1-4

When Six woke the next morning it was all clear in his head. Although the hour was very early, probably closer to three than four, he rose from bed, ignored his erection as best he could and emptied his bladder, and went to the drawer where he kept his tights. He selected the white and red ones because to him that was what he was seeking that morning; the white of truth with the very real possibility of red blood leaking from various wounds.

He looked at himself in the mirror and decided a quick cleanup was probably a good idea. “Always wear clean underwear,” mother always told him. “You never know when you’re going to be in an accident and a nurse will see that nasty brown stain because you forgot to wipe yourself again.” He wouldn’t be wearing underwear, of course, and last night’s shower took care of any unwanted leftovers from an earlier visit to the toilet, but he removed what few whiskers he had, brushed his teeth, and checked his ears for that icky stuff that collected in there. His mother always cleaned his ears until now. He assumed that was part of becoming an adult.

After a few minutes, he was all set to take the ride of his life, quite possibly the last ride of his life. He slipped quietly out of his room and down to the back door. He unlocked his bike and was on the road in moments, feeling the chill of the predawn air against his face. He headed up North Park College Parkway, skirted War Memorial Park where he’d heard a boy as cute as him could have a blowjob simply by walking through the arboretum, and turned south on Oak Park Boulevard.

At Lake Woodin Parkway he turned southeast toward a small community called “The Junction” because that’s where the Seattle and North Park trolleys swapped loads. As it was still rather dark, Six didn’t see much of the quaint historical architecture of the homes and apartments. His focus was on the few cars about and the directions in his mind. He followed the bike lane around Lake Woodin and south on Stone Way to where he could get on the Burke Gilman Trail, which follows the right-of-way of an old railroad. He wasn’t too certain why he had to go this way, but something in the back of his mind was leading him.

The acolyte seeks the crystal
The supplicant touches the crystal
The one is in the crystal
The errant follows demons to death
Chapter 27, v. 23-26

As dawn filled the air around him with gray light, Six approached the undercrossing at the University Bridge. He looked up for a moment and saw three gargoyles and a gryphon on the railing looking down at him. All the way under the bridge he waited for the bone crunching attack of a gargoyle. It didn’t come until he’d passed through. The pain was horrendous, but he expected it and tried his best to topple the rock beast from his back. At all cost, he had to keep it from his head.

The harpy’s scream broke his concentration. He looked up left and right, but didn’t see the razor sharp talons until the last moment. The gargoyle seemed to have gone silent as if it realized it wasn’t quite where it should be; and, the gargoyle was right. With a throaty screech, Six heard the gargoyle get bumped off his back when the harpy swept down upon them.

Six sped off along the edge of the University ever mindful for gryphons, gargoyles, harpies, and eagles, too; especially golden eagles which tended to play important roles in mythology. They seemed to be everywhere and they seemed to follow instructions quite well, too.

The golden eagle stands regent upon rock
Crystal Power courses through its sinew
Woe be the seeker who comes with timid heart
Talons pierce flesh and bone seeking death
Chapter 32, v. 6-9

Six ignored the calls from other riders, “Slow down!” He had to go fast, as fast as he could or a harpy’s talons might suddenly knock him off his bike. There weren’t a lot of riders this early and no one seemed to be going in his direction, so there wasn’t a problem of passing. It was just convoys of commuters coming into the University and Seattle who like riding beside each other, even when passing another convoy.

At the Twenty-fifth Northeast level crossing, Six came quite close to being clipped by a semi-tractor. Other riders still called out to him to slow down, but they didn’t know what was chasing him, nor did they know the reward he might receive if it caught up to him. He didn’t know where it was going to come, but strongly suspected it might be in a gap between convoys so the gryphon and harpies could do their deed without interference.

It was in such an instance when Six looked up and saw a demon standing in his way. It was short, fat, and kind of vaguely reminded him of Casey even though it was right out of a National Geographic article on Nepalese Buddhists. The fangs weren’t Casey’s, though, and neither were the huge arms and long claws. Six knew it was a figment of his overwhelmed imagination, so he was a little surprised when he didn’t simply ride through it. The front wheel of his bike abruptly stopped.

His direction of travel should’ve thrown Six straight forward into the demon or onto the asphalt pavement, but the demon had a different idea. As the boy came forward, it moved its massive arm redirecting Six’s airborne trajectory toward a convenient six foot high by ten foot round mound of Himalayan blackberries, the weedy invader from Europe that is the bane of Northwest gardeners with its seemingly eternal ability to keep on coming back among roses, rhododendrons, and salal. In Six’s case, it wasn’t the weedy nature of the plant that was worrisome.

This mound hid something deadlier. Many years ago, when the Northern Pacific Railroad used this spur to service the lumber mills of Ballard, a barbwire fence was put up along this section. A few of the steel posts could still be seen poking up through various weed patches, except for the one under the mound of blackberries Six’s body was falling toward.

Having gone through this experience two times before, Six let his body fall loose, only concentrating on covering his eyes as blackberry thorns literally could put your eye out. He barely heard the voices of commuters coming onto the scene calling out as the horror unfolded before their eyes. They couldn’t see the demon, the harpies circling overhead, or the golden eagle higher up in the cloudless sky.

He wanted to cry out as thorns ripped his exposed skin and shredded his tights before ripping into the bare skin underneath. One thorn caught a piece of eyelid pulling it away from the object it protected just enough so another of its kind could tear at the gelatinous globe hidden underneath. Unlucky for Six, his fall was such that three strong canes ended up between his legs. Thorns along one cane performed a partial circumcision. All the thorns on the other two teamed up in an attempt to perform an unwanted castration, but it was the steel post that dealt the deadly blow. Six felt the unexpected sensation of rusted steel thrusting into his young body, somewhere in his abdomen, and a remembrance of Saul falling on his sword came to mind.

The next thing Six experienced was the golden eagle pulling him off of the steel post and out of the blackberries. Strong, sharp talons gripped his bared, bloody flesh as they climbed ever higher. Six looked down upon the city of his expected future and wondered if the body left down below was going to survive the trip to the hospital. He didn’t worry about where the eagle was taking him because he figured someone would’ve said if it was important for him to know.

Peter knew it was very wrong to lust over the young, fat, boy lying in the bed next to him, but he did have an erection. A hard-on caused by another person was quite different to giving himself head; a talent he was still amazed he could perform. He could almost imagine himself up there at the pearly gates with the gatekeeper asking what he did. “I can suck my own dick,” he’d say and be shown the exit door. He didn’t see the Judeo-Christian god as being interested in someone who had self-fellated on a regular basis since about twelve. The hour was early, nearly five, and they needed to get up and figure out what the morning chicken was going to put in her egg basket.

Yet, Peter hesitated waking the boy. The smallest nubbin of an erection showed between the boy’s flabby legs. All that fat was not good, but Peter couldn’t stop himself. It was wrong, completely wrong. This was not supposed to happen. What was going to occur could ruin the both of them for years to come, but there was nothing Peter could do to stop the inevitable.

With gentle fingers Peter spread apart the folds of fat and lowered his thin lips over the head of Casey’s small swollen dick. It wasn’t long until the boy under him was writhing in the bed.

“Nooo,” Casey whimpered, “no, don’t do that.”

Undeterred, Peter kept on with his task.

“Oh, god, that hurts,” Casey called out. “Please stop. Oh, god, please don’t.”

Peter rose up from the dick and stared into Casey’s tear filled eyes. He lay down beside the boy and placed a hand over one of the enlarged breasts, his fingers ready to twiddle with the nipple.

“I told you something’s wrong down there,” Casey said. “What you were doing hurt like hell. And, why were you doing that?”

“I wanted you to feel good,” Peter said. “I seldom get the chance to do that to anyone being locked up in the suite all day long.”

“But, you’re not locked in,” Casey said. “You can go, no wait, with Euphorbia out you can’t go out. You guys are weird.”

“We don’t try to be,” Peter said. ‘Now you need to get upstairs and shower and put on clean clothes. This’ll be your first breakfast so we need to do it right, although there won’t be a full house, so you’re kind of lucky with that.”

“Do you need anything first?” Casey asked. His hand was on the older man’s hairless abdomen.

“Anything what?” Peter asked, amazed that the boy would ask such a question considering what happened only moments earlier.

“Well, you know, you’re hard and while, you know, I’ve never put one of those in my mouth, maybe we could do something else,” Casey said as he snuggled a little closer to Peter. His hand was now inches from Peter’s hard cock. “Whatever you want as long as you don’t put it up my butt.”

“Are you willing to try putting it in your mouth?” Peter asked wondering why this was happening. Boys Casey’s age were not supposed to take any sexual interest in men his age unless there was some monetary incentive involve. Casey seemed too innocent for that. So why was he offering this?

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard it’s not all that bad,” Casey said as he moved lower in the bed.

Peter felt a hand grab onto his dick and begin to stroke it. This was actually going to happen. Casey was going to do this. He felt what might have been a kiss on the head of his cock. Was that the boy’s tongue tasting him. The hand continued to stroke him, providing its own urgency to what was to occur.

Then Peter felt it. He looked up for a moment to see his cock disappear into the boy’s mouth. Why was Casey willing to do this? This was so wrong, so awfully wrong.

“Um, that feels good,” Eric whispered as Kevin massaged his right shoulder. It was early for them, but a cramp in his shoulder on the way back from the toilet necessitated waking the other man in his bed. The aches and pains were getting worse. The odd muscular cramps in odd muscles were becoming a problem that needed to be addressed, but his doctor was his age and Eric had a feeling he was thinking of retiring rather than keeping up with all the new diseases that were popping up on TV lately.

He doubted it was some big mysterious disease, but the cramps occurred in the oddest places and at the oddest times. The one yesterday popped up under his left nipple as he was “advising” a gum chewing, mother escorted, goth androgyne named Vyctorea.

He tried to look calm and collected while dealing with the excruciating pain that was making him hard all the while looking at one of the strangest examples of home schooling he’d ever seen. Whatever her looks, she had the smarts to get in North Park, and there were other professors, and classmates, who could deal with her uniqueness.

Vycy and her mother didn’t seem impressed with his advice and later he found out they requested a different advisor. Maybe it was the involuntary wince shortly after they sat down in front of him. Vycy was not a modest girl. She wore boy’s boxers under her black miniskirt. Her legs were spread apart throughout the entire interview. Eric couldn’t help seeing what wasn’t supposed to be seen because Vycy meant for everything to be seen, especially the three gold labial rings.

“Is that better?” Kevin asked. “You know you should go see a doctor about this.”

“It feels wonderful,” Eric said. “Yes, I’ve been putting this off for too long, but I wanted to see if it’d go away on its own. Obviously, it seems to be getting worse. Do you think I should ask for one of the younger doctors at the clinic?”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about,” Kevin said. “Your doctor can handle this.”

“Well, there is that piece of shrapnel in my neck,” Eric said as he turned around and lay down next to his love. “They said it’d probably never be a problem, but maybe it’s decided to become a problem. I keep thinking this is some sort of nerve issue because it’s never in the same place. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I want you to stop worrying about this right now,” Kevin said. They enjoyed a lingering morning kiss and then Kevin sat up. “I’m quite certain this isn’t something that’s going to kill you. You watch too much television. All those so called health shows about people getting diseases that affect one in a million. What was that one last week? Twenty-six cases since the disease was discovered in 1915? And, that was worldwide! At least you don’t have seeping red pustules all over your upper torso. We can rule out that one. Now, come on, we’ve got to get breakfast and check on our teen.”

Eric sat up as a thought of Six upstairs, probably still asleep, passed his mind. Then he remembered the boy brought his bike. There were a lot of things on the boy’s mind, some quite possibly not desirous, and maybe he was already out on a ride before breakfast. There was Freshman Orientation, though. Practice classes to attend, tours of the region to go on, the picnic on Miller Quad, and a decision to make. He wondered if Six was basically conscientious about appointments or went through life like his uncle, knowing if something was important people would wait for him. They might grow tired of his constant lateness, but if it was really important they wouldn’t say anything, either.

Jim sat in the dim light of morning; his eyes fixed on the form in his bed, the young boy who attempted to make love to him the previous night. Jim imagined both of them tried very hard to overcome the fifty years separating them, but Ben seemed to try too hard. He was too gentle when his nature was to be rough and cunning. Jim was ready for a wolf, but he was rewarded with a lamb that was too uncertain when he entered Jim even though the older man was more than capable of handling the boy’s average cock.

It had all been so wrong and could never be repeated. Jim knew he had to get rid of Ben. Buy off his scholarship, maybe. Or get a majority of the Board to allow the boy to move into a dorm. Something. Anything.

He, too, needed to leave. He missed Bobby too much and all of this with Ben was merely his meager attempt at finding love once more. He wanted to get away from here completely; maybe New York. A single, gay writer was always welcome in New York; maybe they were accepting of old, single, gay writers, too. There was Provincetown, of course; he certainly had the money for it. There definitely wasn’t a home to go to. They’d all died or the relationships died. He couldn’t think of any cowboys looking for old Uncle Jim to come riding down the lane.

Yes, he would talk to Kevin and Eric today. He would go first and then they could deal with Ben. The boy was so beautiful, though. He hated to think something dreadful might happen.

Jim slid his feet into his slippers, adjusted his jeans, made sure his t-shirt was tucked in, ran his bony fingers through his loose hair, and went out to start his day. The house was quiet. In a week there would be eight students and even with those few the din would be unbearable to all hours of the night.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Euphorbia and Casey busy at the grill so he went over to the coffee pots and filled his mug with decaf. Sometimes he wondered if a good, regular cup of coffee was so deadly it could kill him immediately or if death came later, say when you were watching the noon news, just after the lead-in to the weather.

“Do you want Casey to learn how to braid your hair?” Euphorbia asked when she turned and saw Jim.

“No, I was thinking of having it cut off, you know, like a buzz cut,” Jim said.

“You will not!” Euphorbia exclaimed. “You’ve had long hair from before long hair was even popular. Your hair was braided before the Beatles arrived.”

“Well, times change and maybe it’s time for me to change, too,” Jim said. He sat down on a bar stool and silently chuckled at the sight of Casey giggling at their argument. He was definitely going to miss that boy.

“Bullshit!” Euphorbia exclaimed as she came over to Jim. “You’re the last person on this planet who’s going to change anything.”

“I’m leaving,” Jim said into his coffee cup. He tried to ignore Euphorbia, but gave in and allowed her to tie it back with kitchen string. If there was time, he’d let Euphorbia have a go at teaching Casey how to braid his hair. It was somewhat of a tradition in the house that Euphorbia’s assistant also braided the old man’s hair.

“Where’re you going old man?” Kevin asked as he walked into the kitchen. “Are we eating on the patio or in the lounge?”

“It’s kind of warm, we could eat on the patio,” Euphorbia said. “Casey you get, uh, well, I’ll help. I hate the beginning of the school year there just isn’t any help around here. Where’s Ben?”

“Asleep,” Jim said.

“Damn! We’re going to miss the good part,” Casey said as Euphorbia pushed him out the slider to set up the picnic tables for breakfast.

“I assume he did more than just sleep in your bed last night,” Eric said as he followed Kevin into the kitchen.”

“Look, you two, I miss Bobby, I do and well, Ben has been doing things for me,” Jim said without looking up. This was it. The time to come clean and admit you’ve had your hand in the cookie jar. “I know it’s wrong, but I thought I was getting through to him, but obviously that wasn’t the case. It all started so innocently and then last night everything got very reciprocal. I figured the only way to fix things without everything going crazy was for me to just take a trip, a long trip. I’d leave today if possible, but suspect I’ll have to wait for awhile. In the meantime, we need to call our lawyer.”

“Damn, Jim, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Eric asked as he sat down next to the older man. “I figured you were doing a pretty good job with the boy, but damn, sex? What in God’s name were you thinking? He could sue us for millions.”

“I know it was wrong and we kept it hidden,” Jim said. “Of course, Ben certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone the old man of Charles House was using him as a sex toy. He’d be the last to say anything. And, he improved. He seemed to be getting better. We even asked him to come back early to help with the freshmen; only that seems to have been a bad idea.”

The old man still hadn’t raised his head, but he accepted Eric’s hand on his back. The touch was soft and soothing and he knew he was still loved by the important people in this house; and, of course, they understood why he needed to leave. It wouldn’t be a strategic exit, a triumphant withdrawal, but more like sneaking off into the night never to be seen again.

“It’s probably not as bad as you think,” Kevin said as the front doorbell rang.

“I’ll go,” Jim said. “I’ve already had a swallow of that swill. You’d think they’d try to give that stuff some taste if they’re going to take out the goodies.

“I’m coming!” Jim exclaimed as the doorbell chimed once more. “Where are all the students?”

Jim opened the front door and knew immediately that his problem paled in significance to what was about to be announced. He looked at the North Park police officer and asked, “Yes?”

“Does a Kevin David Charles live here?” The officer asked. He was an older man, probably mid-fifties. The nametag said “Anderson” and below it there was “Community Service Officer.” Jim couldn’t remember if this was the guy who brought the news about Bobby.

“We have two, numbers five and six,” Jim said as he realized the officer was kind of cute for an older man. He was taller and didn’t have the middle-aged belly some men cultivated to excess. “Which one do you want?”

“Is something wrong, Jim?” Kevin asked as he came out onto the porch.

“This is Kevin David Charles, V, you talk to him,” Jim said as he turned to the younger man. “Find out what the nice officer wants, I’m going back to the kitchen.”

“Is there a problem officer?” Kevin asked. “I’m the boy’s uncle.”

“There’s been an accident,” Officer Anderson said.

Jim stopped as a chill went down his spine. Was that what woke him earlier? The screeching of tires, the squeal of brakes, the thud of body against steel.