Notes from the author: After the last installment, I received a massive outpouring of support, that was both heartwarming and astonishing. I didn't think that many people read Godsend. There were two recurring themes that I feel the need to address.
First, I wasn't going to stop writing if I got no responses. It would only mean that Godsend was getting no readers, and that I should move on to other projects, keeping Godsend going as a side project that was only updated infrequently. To those of you who were worried, all is well on that front.
The second is a misconception many people are having about the current state of the story. Godsend was book 1. It ended with the Godsend Christmas story. Book 2 will be Victor Marx: God of War. This hasn't started yet and is still a ways off. Bridging the gap is what I'm doing now. It is a series of short stories that stand alone. They are not story arcs. Think of them as independent short films with the only common thread being that they're set in the Godsend universe. Some of them will feature or include characters from Godsend - these do not indicate the beginning of book 2. Victor-Marx:-God-of-War-1 will be the beginning of book 2. They will also not be the beginnings of story arcs or mini-series. They're just vignettes. I hope, with them, to bring new ideas to the surface, to clear old ideas from my head, and to possibly spark the imaginations of other writers out there. There are millions of stories out there just waiting to be told. Set yourselves free and join me in telling them.
Without further ado, I bring you:
Crowded
I was here first.
This corner of the auditorium was mine. My refuge. I could eat in peace. I could breathe in peace. I could be in peace. A whole hour where I was the only one around. The theater kids who practiced at lunch knew I was here, but they left me to my space. The stage was their world. We kept to our own sides.
Yesterday there were two of them. Two boys I may have passed at some point in the hallways. They ignored me when they took their seats, holding hands. They ignored me while they kissed, while they fondled. As long as they ignored me, I didn't scream. I didn't scream.
The bell rang and they left, going off to whatever classes they had after lunch. Did they know I was there? Their eyes were for each other. They didn't know.
Today there were four. The first couple was back, and they brought friends. Two more boys kissing and fondling. None of them saw me. None of them knew there were five in the darkness. The theater kids knew. They shot knowing glances up into the darkness. They left me alone. They knew me, in their own way.
Today's bell rang and summoned the boys to their classes, out of my world and back into theirs. But they would never completely leave my world again. My world. It used to be mine. Used to be. Now it was theirs.
I left my space and walked into the harshly fluorescent hallway, squinted my eyes and waited for them to adjust. "Hey, Freak!" yelled a boy with too much muscle to leave room for brains. It was freak now. They couldn't call me what they used to. The lyrics had changed, but the tune stayed the same.
"Sean...hi," I replied, not making eye contact. It never worked. My shirt tightened as he gripped it in his giant hands and strained to hold my weight off of the floor and against the wall.
"Still can't look people in the eye, Patrick?" Sean growled. It was this song again. I'd heard it a thousand times. There were worse ones. This one only ended up with me being knocked to the floor. There were other songs. Some of them hurt. Some of them killed. This was a safe song. "I really want to kick the shit out of you right now, Patrick," Sean growled in my ear, "but we're being watched."
Yet he was still holding me off the floor by my shirt. Some authority figures. "Go ahead," I told him. "Kill me. Please."
He let go of me and I fell to the floor. Then he slammed his arm into me, ramming me into the wall. "Patrick!" he hissed.
"Sean!" the teacher yelled, stopping Sean from saying whatever he was going to say. I was still hurt. Sean backed off and walked away.
I pulled off of the wall and walked to my locker. It wasn't far to the freaks and losers section. My locker still had the spray painted letters from before the Change showing through the layers of paint. FAGGOT. That's what they used to call me. That's why they used to beat me up. That's what I was to them. Now most of them had the same desires. Now I was just FREAK. Non-discriminatory. Generic. They still hated me, but they didn't know why. They beat me up because that was the natural order of things.
I used to be the gay one. The faggot. Now they all were like me. This was my world.
I was here first.
A follow-up note from the author: I really enjoyed hearing from everyone who emailed me last time, the positive and the negative. You can't grow as a writer or a person without both. I invite everyone who reads this story to tell me your thoughts on this or any of my other stories.
Next week's story is already nearly complete. Once again, we leave American shores, but this time we'll also be leaving the Solar System, as we touch base with Min, K'lemut, and the Vaneel in their search for a cure.
Cheers, luvs.