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Website URL - www.dk-daniels.com
Until Dawn - Chapter 1 by D.K. Daniels
The ghostly pale light gloated from the ceiling and colored my skin a pale white. It had always done that at the swimming pool. Every time I stepped foot in the changing room door, my skin would turn blue. On its rubber orchid white floor, I stood barefoot. Anticipating what the temperature of the chlorinated water would be. Would it be too cold this evening or just right? Practice consisted of simple dives and lengths of the pool, but that always made me hungry. Since dinner, I hadn't been all that hot. The fight with dad took everything out of me. I hated fighting with him. Why did he get so, you know... Assholeish. I just wanted to be able to do my own thing: in my own time. He was always on my case. I never get a break, not since? not since mom died. If mom were here, she'd give him hell for running over me like a steamroller. I don't think it was his intention. I wouldn't even assume that he realized what he was actually doing. He just did it without really thinking. He couldn't let me do anything on my own. It was always his way or no way. The grass had to be cut a particular way; the ornaments to be dusted perfectly. There was no trick; you just had to take everything off the shelf and dust the surface too. One week he had gotten mad at me for not doing it like he showed me. He hated being able to see the dust outline?what a load of crap. I mean the situation that he was on about; was it necessary for him to lose the head with me? Probably not. Then again, I didn't really listen all that well, did I?
Clenching onto the hem of my T-shirt, I pulled it up over my head. There, shirtless now. The refreshing cold nip in the air kissed my delicate torso. I don't know why, but it always excited me sometimes. It felt free, as opposed to wearing clothes all the time. Not that I didn't like wearing them, clothes are a necessity. However, just the actual physical act of ditching them is satisfying. I guess in a way, that's why I took up swimming. It was freeing. There was just something about the water; no matter how hard you paddle, nor lay on your back in it, it's soothing.
I had never been interested in such a position beforehand; that was until mom died. Football or any other sports, in general, didn't interest me. I wasn't doing all that well; dad took me to see a psychiatrist, and later $1200 poorer: we concluded that I should take up a hobby. He barked on how it was my fault that I had set him back $1200. Though I promise he's not that sort of bad father, not anymore. He was just preoccupied all the time. We don't really talk anymore. He was just dad, a hollow, empty shell of a man who sat and stared out the window for most of the day. I guess I was lucky that I had an escape and friends. I don't know what I'd have done without them. At the time, I had only been on the swim team for about a year and 1/2, and I felt like I belonged. When I came home, it was always quiet and empty. Dad wasn't violent or anything. He just, I don't know. To me, he seems lost or broken like a toy that a child throws across the room, and it discharges into pieces. I miss having a level of conversation with him. I wonder if he ever got over mum. Not that I didn't miss her, it's just... Nevermind, I was late for practice as it was.
Pinching my T-shirt by the cuff of the neck, I folded it carefully. I aligned both arms back to back, pressed them snugly into the fabric, and folded over the article's remnants into a ball of sorts before placing it inside the top of my gym bag. Mom always told me not to roll it into a ball. It creased it. I guess that part was correct because I rolled it into a ball the first couple of times I started swimming. Just to save on time, though, I reverted back to my mom's way of doing things. Ever since the accident, I had worked hard to try and make the team. It first started out as a hobby, just to pass the time or to at least take my mind off what had happened.
Before I could even realize what was going on, I had made four new friends, and I became the team's best diver. Sequentially, that day, I was rather late because of the row with dad. The first time I started out, I wasn't exactly sure I was cut out for the clothing attire swimmers have to wear. You could say I was conscious of what I might look like. I mean, here I was, anytime I had gone swimming prior, I worn board shorts. So, a speedo was a big step up. I remember the first day fondly; I kept rearranging my bits, unsure if this was actually meant to be for me, the swimming, I mean. Now I'm not so bad. It's true what they say: you just grow accustomed to something the longer you do it. I think my love for freedom and the water amplified my confidence. Once repression of self-doubt and angst, it floated away like me in the water.
Tearing the zipper across on the top of my bag, I picked up my shoes with my scrunched socks nestled loosely atop. Mindlessly, I cracked open a locker, fired the sneakers into the bottom of the box, and the stocking from my right shoe fell out. 'Great?' Now it was going to be wet, they were my only socks.
Releasing a fuelled huff? I flung the sock into the locker, followed by my bag. I put my token into the slot and then sealed the hatch, securely locking it. The anticipation of what was going to transpire the moment I got out there to the pool ran through my brain, more like blitzed. I hated being late. Anxiously I ran the length of the apartment blocks worth of locker storage with the key for my locker in hand, darted left at the end of the channel, and headed for the pool. I could smell it now; the bleached aroma lingered in the air like a cloud of smog or an eggy fart.
The eerie somber solitude began to cascade to my ears. I have no idea why it was unsettling. You'd think by then that I would be accustomed to such silence. After 7 PM, the majority of people what we're in the swimming center-left. The minority who remained training in the upstairs gym or here in the swimming pool was a ghastly few. I had been there a couple of times in the daytime, which always made me feel safe. At night-time, it seemed unnatural. Figuring since I hadn't had a shower early this morning before school, I decided to hop in underneath the warm jet to wash off the loose traces of sweat and other such commodities. Standing under the nozzle, I slap the metal release valve with my palm, and the water roared to life. A soothing, confident flow of liquid funneled down my body and washed off the burdens of the day. Within a matter of seconds, my bone-dry skin turned to a glistening sheen. Tilting my head back, I let the tepid rain pour through the thick clump of blond unassorted hair I had on my head. The calming baptism caressed the crown of my head and shaved sides. I knew all too well that I was still within a rush and that prolonging the inevitable would have to end sometime. Deciding I had enough for the moment, I stepped out of the shower and trafficked my way out onto the recently squeegeed poolside tiles.
Glancing back and forth, I searched for my teammates. At the far end of the pool, the group stood huddled around by one another. Talking somehow or another, of what I did not know. Ambling forward, I cautiously watched my footing in case the floor was still slippery and made my way toward the team. The closer I drew, the more audible their whispering enhanced. It sounded like whispering, as they were not using their outside voices. Everybody had turned up for practice, and I was fashionably late, again. I knew it wouldn't look great to the coach.
Upon reaching the group, which seemed slightly larger than average, I scanned my eyes through the boys. There was a new addition to our club. Timmy stood talking to the coach, Elliot too. Sebastion was there, the tallest of the group, me being the smallest. Whereas Andrew was a whole head bigger than me. Though Sebastian, the tallest of us and all his hotness, brown hair, blue eyes, and smooth stomach. I... I was transfixed. Taylor was relatively good-looking, though his dirty copper-colored hair, green eyes, and fitting build were also admirable, but my eyes were set for Seb. Though there was a new boy I had never seen before.
Stopping short of the circle, the coach cut in, "you're never nearly late, Cooper. Don't make it a habit now!"
Sheepishly, I sputtered out in panicked, "I won't."
I had no idea who the new kid happened to be, who looked Asian, or perhaps more Malaysian at first glance. I'm not sure why panic set in, but he was a lot taller than Sebastian. He was easily a foot higher than the rest of us. He's gigantic. I thought Asain folks were small, but that must have been a flawed stereotype. His body toned, honed, and taken care of. His borderline brown on black hair sat tousled from what I assumed was a quick dip in the water. God, he was something perfect? Snapping out of the trance, I shucked my head and encased my key band around my wrist, and began to fasten it as I joined in with the group. A new boy, I thought, this late into the season. It either meant one of two things; the new boy was really good and was to replace somebody, or we were taking on applicants because we sucked and need all the help we could get.
"About time, I waited in the locker room for ten minutes. I thought you're going to be a no- show," Elliot animatedly said.
It had gotten to the point that Taylor and I developed a concurrence regarding such matters. We were as to how to best friends should be downright wacky. I wasn't intentionally delayed, and he always knew the real reason for my chronic lateness.
Insolently I replied, "nawh? I'm always on time."
"When have you ever been on time?" Elliot chuckled.
Grinning, I added, "sure, the events begin when the maestro arrives."
What was even more alluringly funny was watching Elliot scrunch up his face, contort and try and decipher what I had said to him. I can't explain why I used such confusing words sometimes. Possibly it's just to see him struggle for the sake of seeing him struggle. I liked-liked Elliot.
Elliot's lips quivered as he tried to pronounce the word, "my? ma? Maestro?" The second the pronunciation fell right, Elliot's eyes darted up to me, and he cracked a smile at his accomplishment. I just bashfully shrugged it off from nodded my head in agreement like, hooray, you got it. Though he still gave me a quizzical expression as if for me to further explain what I meant.
"Yeah, it means performer," I confidently said.
Taylor's expression became absent. It was as if he was contemplating saying what the actual fuck.
Instead, Elliot brazenly spoke up, "you learn that today... You only use weird words when you learn something new. You do it, so it makes you sound intelligent."
His quick-witted manner and amused face said pretty much everything I needed to know. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anything graceful to say to outdo his flurry of scrimmage. On the contrary, all I could think about was how hot he was, and I probably look like a complete dork because Elliot was getting a laugh out of my misfortune.
Launching my hand out, I gave Elliot a half-heartedly shove on the shoulder and said, "Yeah, screw you!" And immediately laughed it off.
The new kid's eyes just wondered about the group. The boy wasn't actually standing amongst my friends. He was some way out of the cluster. He seemed nervous, and every so often, he quivered. Though I just turned my attention back to my friends. There was a fresh chill in the air, and there was a smell of wet dog accompanying it. The people who ran the rec center wouldn't let an animal in, so perhaps that smell was because I was damp and stinking sweat.
The coach began to clap his hands together to revert our attention to him. Inadvertently everyone did. I slowly but surely turned my head towards him, not wanting to break observation, Elliot.
"Okay, guys, listen up... We have a new lad on the team," Coach energetically said.
The coach lifted his right arm and gave a gentle motion towards the boy in the back. The coach's arm returned to its downward position before continuing, "I want you to make him feel welcome."
The boys hesitantly took their eyes away from the coach and reverted it to the Chinese or the Malaysian newbie. If I were in his spot, I'd feel increasingly nervous about now because, given that the entire team's attention was on him, I would be bashful.
Shifting focus between the new kid and the coach, I watched as my friends one by one closed the gap between the new boy. Elliot was the first one to offer his hand warmly to the boy. Both of them shook hands and introduced themselves. A second later, the slot was then filled by S‚bastien; then, the next person introductory transpired. Soon after, it was just left me standing there, gawking at the new kid who seemingly peered back at me. It was my turn to introduce myself, and all of a sudden, I felt scared. I have no idea why other than the fact that there was a mystical aura emanating from the boy. It was airy. Even the sheer nakedness of his torso was bizarrely arousing. Though I shuck that idea. I had eyes for Sebastion, and my heart was for Elliot. I couldn't handle another boy. I reluctantly took one step after another; it's not as if I didn't want to talk to the new kid. My legs felt like spaghetti. I was waiting for a k-pop boy band to spring out at any moment. It was rather a funny sensation.
Each step along the ceramic tiles was an embarrassing motion. Why couldn't I have met him in the changing room? It's not every day you make an introduction to somebody when you're half- naked. On the contrary, I was naked. The only thing that actually diluted that common misconception was that I had my swimming attire. Finally, I'm standing directly in front of the new kid. His eyes are an electric green, his skin unblemished and beautifully smooth, his lips: plump and poppy pink. I didn't think it'd be this attractive up close. I could feel my heart gallivanting in my chest, my breathing becoming laborious. 'Say something, you stupid idiot,' I brazenly scolded myself. Boys... Shit... Is this the way the rest of my life would turn out? Frequently infatuated by boys. And in doing so, I cautiously offered my hand. The boy reached out and firmly took hold of it, although his handshake was weak and lifeless.
Overseeing him more intently, I couldn't help but marvel at his eyes and perfect hair. Sculpted immaculately, shaved at the sides of his head, and a top-heavy clump dominating the crown and forefront of his skull. I know the first time I tried out for swimming, I was obnoxiously paranoid that I showed my nipples and bulge. Though this kid held himself comfortably in a relaxed manner. His nipples, each only being a thumb-sized proportion given his age.
Thinking of something warming to say, I offer," hey?"
Though the newbie's level of discomfort suggests that I'm not the only one at the moment to be caught off guard.
The boy murmured back a faint," hey?"
So, faint as to comment that I barely heard it. Once the introductory was all settled, we started out with our practice. I did my routine dives like I was trained to do. The only thing that remained was to get better. Like clockwork, I'd climb the dive platform, take a position on the edge, ready my stance, and jump. The new boys just sat for most of the session watching us all, and I couldn't help but notice him from my perch. I waved down to Elliot occasionally, secretly stealing glances.
After a reverse dive, our session came to a close. I headed back to the locker room with my friends but decided to nip to the toilet first. I didn't like the one in the actual changing rooms, as they were unheated and dirty. The bathrooms upstairs by the gym were much nicer, and the boiler room's heat kept the restroom toasty. Telling the boys to go ahead, I climbed the stairs to the second level and entered the empty W/C. While I urinated, all I could think of was Elliot. I wanted to get downstairs to be able to walk him home; so, I hurridly shuck my shriveled cock then tucked it back in my speedo. On the other end of the bathroom, the door opened with a swish, then closed abruptly afterward. I ignored it; I decided to unravel some toilet paper to blow my nose. It was surprising that other people would use this particular bathroom, but not uncommon. That's the reason I went there, less foot traffic. Giving one hard blow, I cleared out the system, but then I was alerted to a spray seeping under the door. At first, I wasn't sure what it was, but then it dawned on me. Touching my bare feet, the liquid was warm. Hell no... Someone was urinating on the door. Gross. Steeping back, I bumped into the toilet and spread my feet apart to stop myself from stepping in the piss.
"What the fuck!" I called out.
Though there was no response. Plus, I didn't want to open the door?That's not something you do when somebody is peeing on the stall you are in. Instead, I waited, and the flow of the pee just tapered off. There was no walking, even though I listened really hard. I heard the door open and then close. My heart was hammering in my chest. That moment was the most profound experience of my life, and I had never been more terrified or nervous all in one. I didn't want to open the door, but I knew eventually I'd have to, so when I did, I was relieved to see nobody was outside the stall. There was a large yellow puddle on the white tiles in front of the cubicle and a nice shine on the blue Formica door. Did that asshole spring a water leak, I thought? There was so much piss. I felt sick, but I also found myself wondering, who would do this to me? What I know now, and what I didn't realize then, was just how crazy my night was really going to get.
Thanks for reading, comments are welcome and I reply to all. Send emails to danny2017writing@outlook.com I hope this has been an interesting start to our run-up to Halloween, my favorite time of year. Since I don't get to do a yard haunt this year on the scale I usually get to do, I have channeled some of my spookiness into this story.
I have written many adventure books with LGBTQ+ characters. Visit my website to browse my full bibliography. You can also sign up for my mailing list to ensure you don't miss any fun future updates.
Website URL - www.dk-daniels.com