Subject): Desolation, chapter one
The usual disclaimers apply, if you are under eighteen or sexual content is illegal where you live, read no further.
This story is set in a very small town in rural West Texas. It is complete and has sixty three chapters which I have edited many times over the last five years. I know it still needs work and changes, so please offer any suggestions you have.
fireflywatcher@gmail.com
I will still be working on and posting 'Short Grass Prairie'.
This is an original fiction story and I retain all rights unless I give permission to publish or reproduce in writing.
I thank you for reading and encourage you to donate to nifty.
Phil Ford
DESOLATION
CHAPTER ONE
by fireflywatcher- Phil Ford
It was a cool evening. May weather was unpredictable this year. The weather was nearly always extreme. Without fresh air coming inside most of the year, the smells got all mixed up. All winter the smells of burning gas from space heaters and tobacco smoke made the house reek. In the summer the water coolers gave a musty mildew smell to everything. For the few months when the temperature was just right the smells faded away and the house was refreshed. All the dust storms of early spring were over. The red sky with that eerie pink light and that layer of dirt on the window sill where air leaked through the crack had vanished. The occasional thunderstorms where it rained mud were over too.
Dan entered the door dragging a little after fumbling with the keys to get the latch open. He walked around the house opening each window in the usual pattern. As the last window opened the house released a whooshing sound as if gasping for breath. All the curtains fell to a slight flutter and freshness rushed in. Even a hint of the honeysuckle by the porch came in with the breeze. Dan left the front door open. The screen door would keep the bugs out. Every muscle from his head to his toes hurt. Dan's ears were full of dust and dry dirt. Dan didn't go to the fridge for a cold beer, but headed straight for the shower. Dan let the heated water flow to the shower head while stripping down. It hurt pulling off his clothes. "Damn Dan, don't act like you were doing this shit yesterday, when it's been a few months since you worked this hard last" he muttered to himself. Dan slid behind the curtain and let the water hit his shoulder. What a relief. Slowly he moved each part of his body to greet the stream in turn. Dan went back to the really sore spots for a second treatment. Some of the strained and battered muscles were really demanding, wanting attention and the relief the warm water offered. At last soaped his body and with that completed Dan rinsed and stepped out to dry off. There was Tim leaning on the sink with a wide grin. Tim leaned back with one leg straight and the other bent at the knee with only his toes meeting the floor. His butt rested against the counter top just below his cheeks. The baseball cap on Tim's head was cocked back. Both his thumbs were jammed into his back pockets, one almost touching the can of snuff in his left pocket. He wasn't wearing a belt and the top button on his jeans was unfastened because the button hole had worn to the point it no longer grasped the brass button. Open doors are an open invitation. Dan hadn't shut the bathroom door either. He dried off as if he was alone, but a man's body gives signs of pleasure that can't be hidden. Dan grabbed a pair of shorts and went commando for the moment. He'd forgotten to get anything before going into the shower and it was no time to search naked for clean clothes. "What's up Tim, good to see you" Dan said as he brushed the tangles out of his wet hair. Tim just nodded and did that top to bottom glance at him. The beads of water still clinging to his body sparkled like diamonds in the diffused light. Tim took a deep hard breath and turned away. "Want a cold beer bud; I'm headed to get one?" Dan offered. "Sure thing man" Tim said as they went into the living room. Tim flopped himself into a chair with his left leg over one of the arms, boot sticking out in the air. He knew his spot. The wear of the chair showed that Tim had sat in it many times before. Even the brass spittoon beside it knew Tim. Dan smoked. Tim dipped. "I don't know how you stand that nasty worm dirt in your mouth" Dan would say. Tim would smoke when the occasion called for it. He never bought any, but would bum them from Dan to keep him happy. He hit the button turning on the radio and tuned it to a rock station as he waited for Dan and a beer. Hoobastank 'The Reason' came in, putting Tim's mood in place with the words. For Tim, everything in life was held in the words of a song. Maybe Tim still needed to hear a few more tunes to get it all right, but whether he was happy or sad, some song fit the moment. It might be rock, or country, or even a church song; songs just said the words nobody could speak. Dan pulled open the fridge door and popped open the beer he had been craving since starting the drive home from work. He normally carried a "go home" beer in the truck for the ride. Last week Dan's boss decided to snoop through his truck and found a beer in the glove compartment. He figured Dan was drinking on the job. No beer breath countered his suspicions, so he let it go with the warning that if there was any beer on his property again, Dan could look for a new job. The damn truck doors didn't lock and neither did the toolbox behind the cab. The shower hadn't gotten the dust out of Dan's throat and the beer was washing the last of it away. After a few swigs, he put last nights stew on to heat and headed back with a beer for Tim. "Here Tim, want some stew from last night? I put it on to heat up." Dan paced back and forth not wanting to get comfortable yet. The smell of the stew was signaling it was getting hot fast. The hunger left from a hard day's labor demanded attention. "Maybe later if any is left" Tim replied, so Dan got a bowl down and filled it. A few crushed chilies might clear his head and he added more than was a good idea. He inhaled the stew without even going back into the living room. With an internal prayer, Dan thought; "Lord be merciful and let my time here end. I am tired." Life for Dan just carried on day after day. It never seemed to improve. Sometimes it got even worse but after struggling a while it eventually returned to the same hopeless normal that was existence and not living. Dan remembered the first time that thought had entered his mind. Suicide, it was not something eight year old boys considered but Dan had thought it. He knew exactly what it meant. It had taken a lot of thought, pondering on life and how he fit into this world. At last, he'd reached the conclusion that something was very wrong with this world and no matter what he did he couldn't fix it. If he couldn't fix it the next best thing was to get the hell out of Dodge. Love was what was missing. Even in church, where all Jesus asked was "Love one another" the preacher had a whole list of 'excepts' to add in on his own. All the preacher did was spout hate and threats that sinners were hell bound and their fates in everlasting fire were deserved because after they were sinners. Jesus had already walked the Earth. He was God's son and had died for our sins and if Jesus couldn't fix the messed up world and put love back into life, Dan sure couldn't fix it. "Could everyone be wrong?" Dan wondered. All the sermons were just repeats of the same stories over and over except a few improvised by the preacher, so Dan began to read the Bible and search for answers. All that reading had taken him a long time. He had several versions of the Bible to compare and had to use the dictionary a lot. Dan found his answers. God is love and the most important thing we could do was to love one another. The world was filled with hate and Dan couldn't fix it but he quit going to that church and quit listening to that preachers rant. Dan was at his granny's that summer when suicide came into his thoughts. He knew he couldn't hurt himself if it was painful or took a long time to die. Drowning was supposed to be less painful, but Dan had nearly drowned and knew that wasn't true. Freezing to death was supposed to be nice, but on the rare times he had gotten caught unprepared for cold weather Dan had shivered until his teeth wouldn't stop clattering and it was definitely awful. Every possibility seemed painful. Taking sleeping pills might be all right but there was nothing like that around for him to use. A snake bite like Cleopatra had done must be quick or a queen would never do it. Then Dan thought about the spider. Granny had said to watch out for the spider because it would kill him. It was small and the bite couldn't hurt as much as the big fangs of a snake. If it felt like a wasp or a bee, the sharp pain only lasted for a second. Out in the tack room, inside the barn, the spider had a huge web. He had watched it many times and the smooth black body with a bright red spot on its underside was beautiful and moved gracefully across the web. When a bug got trapped in the threads the spider moved quickly to the motion and went to work on its meal. Then Dan would see a cocoon hidden to the side somewhere to the side. Dan ran out to the tack room and began to jiggle his finger on the web hoping the spider would do its job, but it ignored him. He spent hours trying to coax the spider or agitate it into biting him, but as it grew dark Dan gave up and went back to his granny's house. He thought about the spider every day after that and up to today suicide crossed his mind at least once a day. Death was only a thought and prayer his only pleading for it, but Dan knew he couldn't live in a world without love. Tim was a tall redheaded guy in his thirties, about the same age as Dan, but Dan was blonde. They were best friends and had been longer than either could remember. Once in a blue moon, things transpired between them two men aren't supposed to do together, but only once in a blue moon. On one of these occasions, while they held each other afterwards, Tim said "You know I don't want this Dan, but sometimes I just need to feel the touch of another body". Dan felt the same way. Tim knew he showered when he got home. Too often he showed up just in time to find Dan getting out of the shower. Maybe truth is a little different than people want it to be. Maybe some people hold one feeling inside their heart and show a different face to the world. Maybe loneliness can take any of us in directions we wouldn't choose, but settle for and grow comfortable with. Dan and Tim eased out on the back porch in the evening shade on the east side of the house. The breeze flowed through the screen wire surrounding the porch and the sounds of the neighborhood blended with the music as it played. As a whiff of mesquite smoke drifted by from someone's barbeque, more smells floated past. The deep bass beat from a passing car made counterbeat to the radio. Dog, Dan's dog, was trying to lick the remains left in a mayonnaise jar through the narrow neck. He held it with his front paws to the best of his ability, but it would slip from his grasp and tumble away. Dog would moan and fret until he had the jar under his control again and moan some more in his frustration, trying to reach the last of the jar's contents. The jar rolled up onto the concrete sidewalk and gave the familiar ringing sound as the glass spun around, and once again he brought it to a stop, holding it motionless. Someone's trash had surely been mangled. Dan would hear from an irate neighbor, he knew, but he had no urge to search out the mess and clean it up. He looked in Dog's food bowl and it had a large amount remaining. Whatever the contents of the jar might be, it would go against the nature of the dog to deny him what he desired. That wouldn't be right. The beer was kept just inside the porch door. They sat and drained away the tension of the hard day washing it down a swig of beer at a time. As they went back inside, Tim broke the spell of silence. "That gal that lives between the beer store and town came over last night" Tim's head bent down a little. "She drank all my beer after I fell asleep. I need to borrow a six-pack or I'll have to drive the thirty miles to the beer store. I had two cases when she came over. I didn't know a woman could drink so much. I woke up at three and she was drinking the last can. I won't be seeing her again." "Damn Tim, she looked pretty good, didn't you have a good time?" Dan knew Tim would keep trying to date, but choices in Desolation were few and none of them were good. Dan had given up on dating, he loved Tim. "Well, she got off at eleven, and by twelve thirty I was asleep. At three she had the radio playing so loud it would wake up the neighbors and woke me up. The shine is gone from that new penny. I never could pick em Dan." Tim ate some stew. He never cooked and there was no fast food in this town except what you could get at the Gas'n'Go. Nothing was on TV, so Dan put in a tape. It was one of those occasions for sure. It only took a few minutes watching porn to set the mood. Each took his turn on his knees, there was the mandatory "I love you motherfucker" and a hug. Then Tim was out the door and down the road, six-pack in tow. Dan stepped outside the back porch and took a piss. That familiar burn that happens when you piss too soon after sex, hit him to remind him that everything that brings pleasure brings pain with it. We fill our lives with things to occupy our time and occupy our mind. All the time, what we really need is love and arms to hold us close. We all settle. The sincerity is what counts not the form it takes.