Let The World Go By
This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive or illegal for you to read where you live then do not continue go and surf elsewhere.
While this is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons, there may be some similarity to some real persons or events every attempt has been made to make this non-apparent.
The work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
I want to thank all of you who have sent me comments about the story -- even those who didn't like it.
"Hey, you okay?" the voice sounded far away. The feeling of being sat upon gradually went away.
"You okay?" the voice asked again. He opened his eyes. The voice sounded familiar, but the face he didn't recognize, at first.
"Yeah," he said, "I must have fainted."
"Too much partying?"
"I guess," James answered. It was then that he recognized the face. Although he hadn't gotten a good look at it in the darkness, the voice told him it was Greg, the last guy from the river.
"You?" James asked.
"What?" the guy he knew as Greg asked.
"Never mind," James said. What was the point? It was over now, done with. He wasn't the one James wanted to get even with anyway. With the guy's help James managed to get up. His whole body ached, but he dried off and wrapped the towel around himself. When he turned around to leave, the guy was gone. James stumbled to his room and succeeded in getting onto his bed.
Monroe was furious when he heard the story which James told him the next morning. Furious at those who had done this to his love, and furious with himself for letting it happen. No amount of pleading on James' part could calm him. If it were not for the fact that James steadfastly refused to tell him who his attackers were, Monroe would have gone to the school authorities to seek dismal of those involved. But without James' cooperation, he could really do nothing.
Nearly in tears of desperation, Monroe tried to find some way to soothe away the hurt that he knew James must feel. He was somewhat surprised that James didn't seem more upset by the incident. As the day wore on he began to wonder if James might not be telling him everything. He was about to question him further on the matter, but decided that it was only that James refused to tell him who his attackers were that he felt the way that he did. He knew that eventually James would tell him, when it was too late to do anything about it. But if that's the way that James wanted it, then there was nothing he could do about it. And to some extent he could understand his reluctance to go to the officials, after all, he knew he wouldn't have told if it had been him.
Since James didn't want to go out to eat looking like he'd been in a barroom brawl, Monroe went to the restaurant and brought food back for them.
Monroe didn't notice that he was being watched as he came and went from James' room, until after they'd finished eating, and he made a trip to the trash container in back of the barracks. John was standing leaning up against the doorway of the lounge, as he was about to return to James' room.
"Did Sweet James run into a door in the dark?" John smirked not being able to contain his anger any longer.
Monroe glared at him, and knew in an instant that somehow John was involved with the attack on James. With a single blow to the jaw of the big football player, Monroe sent him into unconsciousness. He was about to do more, and decided against it. Leaving him there would be more embarrassing to John to explain than if he were totally beaten up. Monroe disappeared into James' room before anyone arrived to see.
"Was he alone?" Monroe asked as he sat down beside James.
"Who?" James asked and at once knew that Monroe had discovered part of the truth.
"John, the guy who attacked you." Monroe was still angry and would have gone after anyone he knew who was involved in the event.
"No," James decided that it would be best if he told Monroe everything, "But he was the leader, and I wouldn't recognize either of the other two because it was dark."
"Well," Monroe said defiantly, "John will be having a sore mouth for awhile."
James started to get up, "What did you do?" Monroe explained what had happened, and James could see that it would do no good to do anything more, better to accept that it had happened, and let it go at that.
James decided to skip classes the next day to let his face and body recover from the blows that they had taken. Monday night they went out for dinner, even though James protested that he looked awful. But he found that no one seemed to notice, and he felt better after they got back. They studied together that night for the exams began the next day.
Each had two exams: one on Tuesday and one on Thursday, and they were finished. Monroe was flying back to Houston for a week's visit with his family, and then back to relax before school started in two more weeks.
James was supposed to take the bus home and wait until school started. Monroe suggested that he take his car, so that it wouldn't sit in the lot while he was gone. He didn't like the idea that someone might damage it once they figured out that he was gone.
So James drove him to the airport on Friday afternoon before heading back to his home.
His mother was upset by the look of his face, but when he explained that he had just tripped over a chair and run into a door as he fell, she just smiled. Nothing too serious, she thought, and let it go.
James waited until the weekend was over before he told her that he'd be driving back to St. Paul to pick up Monroe on Sunday. He asked if Monroe would be welcome to visit for a few days, if he wanted to.
"It can't be for too long," she said, "Two of my brothers are coming up from Corpus Christi next week, and you know how they are about Negroes."
"When are they arriving?" he asked.
"Not until Thursday or Friday next week," she answered.
"He can be gone by then, if it's a problem," James said. There wasn't that much to do in the small town, so he probably wouldn't want to stay more than a couple of days anyway. But it did mean that he couldn't go back with him, as his mother expected him to stay and visit with his uncles and their wives.
Well, he thought, I could help out with the plowing now that the harvesting was done. It would be a break from sitting around and talking with relatives he barely knew.
James enjoyed having the use of a car whenever he wanted it. On Tuesday night he drove into town to visit with Dirk whom he'd called when he first got in. Since Dirk was working late every night except Tuesdays, it was their first time to get together after he returned.
Dirk was anxious to hear all about college. He was due to leave for college in another week. He was going to school in Memphis, Tennessee. James had known about where he was going, and hadn't been able to figure out why. Dirk explained that he had gotten a scholarship and the cost of living there was considerably less.
Dirk was characteristically curious about how James had fared in the sex department. He was envious when James told him about the people he'd met and carried on with.
"He really must like you to let you use his car," Dirk said when James told him about Monroe.
"We get along," James smiled timidly.
"I hope it wasn't he who gave you that nasty bruise on your head," Dirk laughed.
"No," James said, "And I don't really want to talk about it."
"You've got to tell me, it might be important for me to know, so I can avoid the same thing having to me," Dirk insisted.
"You might like it," James teased, "Or at least, most of it."
"Really?" Dirk smiled, "Do tell!"
After James finished describing the incident in the more intimate of details, Dirk was excited and turned on by it.
"If I can just keep from getting hit in the face," Dirk said, "I could tolerate most everything else."
"I'll bet you could," James laughed.
"Well," Dirk said, "You know I can, if I can take you."
"Bitch!" James swatted at him, but missed deliberately.
"Come," Dirk said, "Let's go see if I can remember how."
"Oh, no!" James said.
"Please," Dirk pleaded.
"No," James said, "I'm saving it for Monroe. You know me!"
"Yeah," Dirk said, "The biggest tease, and I do mean the biggest!"
"You act like you haven't had any since I left," James said.
"Not like you, I haven't," Dirk said coyly.
"You should have gotten together with Buddy," James said, knowing how they hated each other, "He's about my size."
"Yeah, but she's such a bitch!" Dirk said.
"When she wants to be," James had to agree. He'd never been with Buddy, and never had any desire to be. They'd somehow never been friends, not even when they were much younger.
James leaned over and kissed Dirk. He couldn't resist the temptingly delicious way his lips glistened when he was excited. The rest proceeded along the same lines as it always had when they managed to get together. Monroe will like him, James thought as he drifted in and out of sleep later.
Sunday morning after church and breakfast, James packed a few of his things in a small bag and headed back toward St. Paul. He didn't want to be late in picking up Monroe.
There was little traffic and he made good time arriving an hour before he had to pick up Monroe. He filled the car up with gasoline and checked the oil before heading for the airport. He wanted everything to be set when Monroe got there.
Looking all refreshed and rested Monroe bounded down the steps off the plane and in toward the waiting room. He spotted James standing among the crowd and waved enthusiastically. They shook hands as they met, and then talking they headed off to wait for his luggage.
Monroe insisted that James drive so he could concentrate on looking at him. He couldn't believe how he had missed James. He was excited when James told him about going to visit in his hometown. He'd never been to a small farming community, much less stayed on a real farm.
By the time that James had described how things were while he was gone, James was parking the car in the lot at school.
After a brief stop in Monroe's room where he changed into fresh clothes, James drove to the restaurant when they had eaten the first time. It was his turn to treat.
As they drove back to the barracks James could see what Monroe had in mind for later, and probably not too much later either. The bulge in his shorts was plainly visible and defiantly trying to push through the lightweight fabric.
As Monroe climbed out of the car to go in to his room, he had to adjust himself so that it wouldn't be obvious if they happened to run into anyone.
The night air was cool when they finally climbed out of bed and headed for the showers. Since only half a dozen students were staying for the summer between semesters, the building seemed deserted.
They were just finishing their showers when they heard the door open. They both recognized the young man as he entered, but for different reasons: Monroe because he and Greg were friends from a class they took together during the regular year, and James because he was the nicer of the guys who had assaulted him before classes had ended earlier that summer.
Greg pretended not to recognize James, and James returned the favor. Monroe introduced them, and they shook hands as if nothing had ever happened between them.
Greg was excited about seeing Monroe again, but seemed more than interested in James, so much so that Monroe began to wonder about him.
James and Monroe went back to his room. When they were secured inside, Monroe said, "I didn't know that he liked guys."
"What makes you think he does?" James asked.
"You didn't notice how he looked at you? He couldn't keep his eyes off your towel."
"Well," James smiled, "that doesn't mean he likes guys. You know how some guys are, they just like to look."
"That was not just a look!" Monroe insisted.
"Well," James said, "maybe he does. Does that make him bad?"
"No," Monroe said softly. "He just better not get any ideas about you, that's all."
"I won't let him," James cooed, "I've got you to keep me in line, remember?"
"Yeah," Monroe sighed, "And don't you forget it."
James began feeling uneasy about introducing him to Dirk and his other friends when they returned to his home next week. He hoped that Dirk wouldn't do or say anything to give Monroe any reason to think that anything had happened between them, while he was home before, or ever, if it came to that.
Monroe's indignation over Greg's attention to James was short lived, and soon forgotten. James' concerns too were soon over as they concentrated on the present
James' family all took to Monroe immediately, especially his mother. She fawned over him as if he were a long lost relative.
"Is she always so nice to people?" Monroe asked when they were alone.
"Pretty much," James' said. He had to admit that he'd really never thought much about it, but she was.
"I thought maybe she was, you know...," Monroe said, not really wanting to put what he had been thinking into words.
"You mean because you're Negro?" James asked.
"I guess," he answered.
"Don't worry about that," James said, "We've already talked about that, "She's not prejudiced in that way. She's got her hang-ups about certain things, but that's not one of them."
The visit with Dirk and Joey made James nervous, and apparently Monroe sensed it.
"Don't be nervous," he said, "I'll like them. And I'll be good, honest I will."
His good-humored attitude calmed James' worries.
Both Dirk and Joey were enthralled with Monroe. Firstly because he was so handsome, and secondly because he was a Negro. They'd never had any contact with one so close to their own age, one with whom they could have been intimate, had the circumstances been different.
They were careful to avoid any mention about having been with James; in fact any indication that they were interested in anything sexual was left out of the conversation.
Finally it was Joey who couldn't control his curiosity any longer.
"Monroe?" he asked, looking directly at Monroe's crotch, "Are all Negroes as handsome as you are?" The question was obviously not about looks.
"If this," he said putting his large hand over his crotch, "Is what you're talking about, the answer is Yes and No. Some are more, and some are less." He laughed, trying to relax the other two, who were obviously annoyed by Joey's question.
"Joey!" Dirk said, "How could you be so, so crude?"
"Well...," Joey said, hanging his head, "I just,... had to know. You know what people say."
"But," Dirk protested, "That's like saying all Swedes have blonde hair."
"Hey," Monroe said, "It's all in your genes. Some have it and some don't."
Everyone laughed, hearing him say it that way, made it seem okay.
From then on, anything was open and above board, the conversation went from bad to worse. Being able to discuss anything and ask questions about the most intimate of details made the whole evening a raucous success.
James and Monroe were reluctant to part on Wednesday when it was time for him to leave and go back to the college alone. James' family sensed that they wanted to be alone and went back inside after making their good-byes. His mother especially felt badly as it was because of her brothers that he had to leave sooner than would have been necessary otherwise. She wished that they were different from what they were, but wishing wouldn't make it so, and she couldn't bare to see her son's friend insulted by what might happen if he were here when they arrived.
For James and Monroe feelings were just as intense, and just as mixed. Monroe hated the way that some people were, and James hated that it was his family who were that way.
Monroe finally climbed into the car and started the engine. James leaned in through the open window and kissed him quickly, hoping that no one would see. And then Monroe drove off leaving James standing in the driveway waving after him.
The visit of the uncles and their wives was not as offensive as James had thought it might be, at least once he began to renew old acquaintances with them. He did return to part of his routine of chores and working in the fields while they were there, as they often were off with his mother and father visiting friends in the area. His father appreciated the fact that he was helping which allowed him time to go with the rest of the family. He made a note in his mind to give James something extra when he left for school.
The following two weeks were spent in some shopping for an additional pairs of slacks and shoes, some shirts, and a new winter coat for everyday wear. Having looked at clothes in St. Paul, he found that the prices here were just a little less expensive than near the college, and was glad that he had waited. Since he was a freshman and hadn't pre-registered in the spring, he had to go back a week before classes actually started.
He was glad when it was time to leave again, and glad that this time he would be taking the train as he could meet Monroe by himself than with his father.
The train ride was pleasant enough, mostly old ladies and a few women with children. A few servicemen heading off to the war in Korea nattily clad in their uniforms, sitting with the all too familiar manila envelopes clutched in their hands, some not knowing if they could even talk about where they were headed.
James struck up a conversation with one such man, whom he found out was from Fargo, and was on his way to St. Paul to take the train to San Diego where he would join his Marine unit bound for Korea. He was shy and awkward about being on the train at all, much less talking to someone as handsome and virile as James.
His shyness was partly due to the fact that he found James most attractive, and was well aware that the military was very strict about not wanting men who were attracted to men serving. His determination to be thought of as a man-of-the-world, a real woman-chaser, caused him to tell stories that even if they had been true would have made him suspect, they were so grossly exaggerated.
James had little trouble in seeing what his problem was, and even the little experience he had with women, let him understand that the man was lying about his adventures. But he let him go on telling his stories.
"How about you, James?" Roy asked, they had introduced themselves early on in their conversation.
"Me?" James said softly, "I'm like you, I prefer guys to women."
For a long moment Roy made no response, and turned several shades of red darker than his shyness already made him. At last he spoke.
"I'm glad," he said keeping his voice low so that no one else would hear, "I hate having to tell these stories, and to pretend to be something I'm not."
From then on in, they laughed and talked, always in quiet voices, even though there was no one sitting within three seats of them. They exchanged addresses after Roy extracted a promise from James to not write anything explicit in his letters, as he was afraid someone might read them, especially while he was overseas. James readily agreed, as he was only too well aware of the trials of being the way they were.
"When are you leaving the Cities?" James asked, the Cities, a reference to Minneapolis and St. Paul that was understood by almost everyone from the area.
"Not for a couple of days," Roy answered.
"How come you're going so early?"
"I wanted to see if I could do something there before I left," he answered shyly, "you know what I mean..."
"Yeah," James said, "I guess I do."
Such a shame, James thought, that someone like him would have to resort to cruising the bathrooms and movie theaters, looking for someone to have sex with.
"I know a couple of guys," James suggested, "Who might just be interested in someone like you. I mean you're good looking, pleasant, and if the bulge in your pants is any indication, you're well endowed, as they say. Just the kind these two guys like." It was difficult to make it sound inviting without making Roy sound like a tramp, or his friends for that matter.
"That would be swell," Roy said, "I mean, if you could introduce us."
"They go to school where I do," James explained, "And if you're staying near by, they could meet you there when they were out of classes. That way you could roam around or sleep during the day."
Roy grinned broadly.
"You will have dinner with Monroe and me tonight won't you?" James asked.
He accepted James' invitation. Afterward James would introduce him to Jim and Joe.
Monroe was polite, but suspicious, when James introduced Roy at the train station. But after he explained the situation, Monroe relaxed and joined in the intrigue. After dinner they returned to the barracks where Monroe still lived, and where both Joe and Jim lived also. James and Roy would be staying off campus until the next day since James couldn't get into a room until then.
After the introductions were made they all went out to the lounge to sit and visit, since none of the rooms were large enough for that number of people to be comfortable doing anything, save possibly having sex.
Since school didn't officially start until the next day, only those who had stayed the summer were there, and even some of them were still gone, including the one neither Monroe nor James wanted to run into, John. Greg waved to Monroe as he passed through, but went on without stopping, seeing that they were busy.
Both Joe and Jim were delighted in meeting Roy, and said that they would see him the next day, if he'd give them a call when he was settled. That arrangement settled, James and Roy were off to find a place to stay. Monroe told James to take the car, as he was dreadfully tired, possibly coming down with something.
James were a little upset that Monroe wouldn't be coming with him, and staying the night, but supposed the it was for the best, if he wasn't feeling well.
It took a bit of driving to find a place that would be convenient for Roy, and not too expensive. But finally they came upon a motel which didn't look too busy, or expensive.
After explaining to the manager their situation, and considering that Roy was a serviceman, and would be staying the week, he agreed to a low price, which was almost too good. If either had been paying attention, they would have realized that the manager had ideas of his own. He agreed that James could stay the night with no additional charge.
They carried in their luggage and Roy began unpacking what he would need for the time that he was there. James got undressed and decided to take a shower. With a towel wrapped around him, he went to the bathroom.
After a quick, but refreshing shower, James climbed out and was standing drying himself when the door opened. It was Roy clad only in his socks, with a nearly erect penis bouncing before him.
"I hope you don't mind," he said, "I just couldn't wait any longer."
"Be my guest," James smiled, "It's your room, I'm just a guest."
Roy stepped to the stool and held the plump cock in his hand, guiding the stream into the water. James couldn't help but watch. Just the sight of the long hard cock spewing forth set his imagination running, and his cock responded by raising itself to equal dimensions.
"You had a good shower?" Roy asked when he finished, and then he turned to look James' direction, "Gosh!"
"I'm sorry," James said, "I can't control it, especially when I see a naked man, as cute as you are."
"Don't be," Roy said trying not to stare. His cock too, began rising to full extension. "I've never seen one as pretty and as big as yours..."
James blushed and said, "I think you should look in the mirror."
Roy looked, and what he saw were two young men, both of whom had erections which nearly identical in size, shape and color.
"I had no idea," Roy said softly, "But we are nearly twins."
"Yeah," James said, "At least in that department."
Roy turned once again toward James. He stepped forward and knelt on the floor at once, taking James fully into his mouth and throat. James sighed in response to the sensation. He grasp Roy's head and held him still for a moment.
"Wait," he said trying to breath slowly, "Or I'll shoot right away."
Slowly Roy removed himself from the stiff shaft and stood up. "I want you so badly," he said. "After I shower we'll do it, okay?"
"Okay," came James' response automatically. If Monroe had heard it, he would have wondered about his fidelity. But if he had seen Roy at that moment, he too would have agreed, to anything he suggested.
They lay recovering from their initial contact, both men starring at the ceiling, not speaking, barely breathing.
"It was marvelous," Roy said at last, "I don't think I've ever had that kind of experience before, not so wonderful, so excitingly delicious."
"It was good for me too," James admitted. He put his hand on Roy's thigh and squeezed it. Roy covered it with his own.
"I envy you and Monroe," he said, "Being together, and not having to worry all the time about someone getting into you life, or having to do nothing because you might get caught doing it. I don't know how I can stand it for two whole years."
"You'll manage just fine," James said sympathetically, "Just fine. Maybe you'll find someone in there that you can get close enough to, and not have to worry about that sort of thing."
"I doubt it," Roy answered, "But I hope so. From what I've seen so far, there aren't that many of us in the Marines, none I've been actually sure of."
"You'll see," James said, "Don't worry so much about it. You'll be okay."
"You really think so?" he asked.
James leaned up on one elbow, and kissed him lightly, "I'm sure."
Roy responded by pulled James close to him, and kissing him passionately. Both responded, and soon they were once again engaged in satisfying their needs, pleasing and being pleased. As it had been the first time, the end came quickly returning them to the position they had been in before the conversation began.
After breakfast early in the morning, James bade Roy goodbye, reminding him to call Joe or Jim that afternoon.
"I'd almost forgotten," he said. He thought a moment and added, "I don't really care. You've given me more than I thought would be possible in a single evening. I doubt that I could even get it up, for a week."
James laughed, "You won't have to do a thing, knowing Joe, you'll be up before you're even aware that he's at it."
Roy smiled, "Thanks, James."
"Thanks yourself, Roy," he answered, "And we'll see you this weekend, before you have to leave. Unfortunately, Monroe will be along, so we'll just have to be friends, nothing more."
"We'll always be more than just friends," Roy said smiling a sad smile, "I'll always remember last night."
James drove off hoping that he would see Roy again, but happier than he was right now, perhaps in another situation, more to his liking.
Monroe it turned out developed more than a slight cold or a mild case of the flu. By the time that James returned to the school, and had a chance to drop in on him, he was burning up. James rushed him to the infirmary. When the nurse took his temperature Monroe had a fever over a hundred and five. He had a sharp pain in his side, which James immediately suspected was appendicitis. The nurse agreed with his diagnosis and ordered that he be taken to the hospital near by. James drove him up to the emergency entrance, where they were waiting for him with a gurney. They wouldn't let James stay or go with him, but ordered him to wait in the waiting room, if he must stay.
James waited for over an hour before a nurse came to let him know that at the moment Monroe was in surgery. James was panicky, he went to the phone and called the school nurse and told her what was going on. It turned out that the hospital had already called her, and she had called Monroe's family to let them know. In the short time that had transpired, they had called back to let the school know that they would be flying up the next day, and asked if someone would meet them. The nurse asked if James could do it, and he agreed, even though it was the first day of classes. The nurse told him that she would get him an excused absence if he needed it.
He went back to the waiting room to wait the outcome of the surgery. He looked through the magazines aimlessly, not really seeing what he was looking at, just turning the pages periodically, wishing desperately that he had a cigarette.
At last, two hours later, though it seemed longer, a doctor came into the waiting room.
"You're a friend of Mister Hamilton's?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," James answered getting from his seat, "How is he?"
"The surgery did not go well," the doctor paused, "We were too late. He died a few minutes ago. I'm sorry." The doctor turned and walked away.
James stood alone in the middle of the room, too stunned to do anything but stand there.
The next day James drove the short distance from the school to the airport to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. He doubted that he could have gone there if he had not already promised to pick them up. He parked the car as close to the terminal as he could get.
The short distance he had to walk seemed like a mile. Slowly and deliberately, he trudged the distance, step after step, and by the time he reached the terminal entrance his eyes were glazed. Thankfully he didn't have long to wait.
He went to the gate and told an airline employee who he was looking for, he agreed to have them ushered off the plane first. He stood at the entrance for the flight with his hands behind his back, waiting. When he saw the bent figures approaching, he tried to pull himself out of the depression he felt.
He could see the tears in their eyes as they made their way into the terminal.
"Mrs. Hamilton, Mr. Hamilton," James said, "I'm James Arneson. I'm a friend of Monroe's. I'm terribly sorry at your loss." He managed to say it all without tears, without choking on his words.
Mr. Hamilton shook his hand, and Mrs. Hamilton just reached out and hugged him, as if she had been his own mother, and he were telling them about his own brother.
Of course they already knew that someone would be meeting them, and that their son was dead.
"You are so kind to meet us," Mr. Hamilton said.
"So kind," Mrs. Hamilton repeated lifting herself away from James' shoulder.
"I wish...," James started.
"You did all that you could, James," she said, "All that anyone could. They told us at the school what you did, and that you were there at the hospital."
They walked quietly to the car after picking up their luggage. James drove to the school, where a group of school officials were waiting to greet them, among them the Dean of Students, Mr. Jonathan Weirs. He had made arrangement for them to stay at his residence, and for the funeral arrangements at the school. Burial, of course, would be at his home.
In spite of the reassurances of all his friends, he felt as though he was being punished for all of his past sins, all the things he'd done or hadn't done. He was sure that he'd done some good things too, but they didn't seem to matter.
The weekend brought an end to the visit of Monroe's parents. They had packed what things of his they wanted, and gave the rest to James to do what he wished. They signed over the car to him.
"I can't keep it," he protested, "You have another son, don't you?"
They nodded, and he said, "I'll drive it down in the summer break, and sign it over to him then."
They smiled, and told him that it wasn't necessary.
After seeing them off at the airport Saturday morning, he drove to the motel where Roy was staying. Roy had come to the funeral, and sat in the back of the chapel. James had stopped and told him that he would see him on Saturday.
Roy was standing by the doorway when James drove up. He felt the hurt of James' loss, it grieved him to see him so unhappy.
They hugged and went inside.
The next morning it was time for Roy to leave, time for him to catch his train to California, and then on to Korea. Their parting left another empty feeling in James heart. "Could he go on," he wondered, "What does it all mean? This God everyone talked about, if He existed at all, had to be the most spiteful being in the world. To hold His hand out to offer you life and happiness, and when you reach out to take it, smack you in the face and send you to the earth to struggle to get back up again. How many times could He expect you to get back up? How could He be so cruel?" James had no more tears to shed, only a heart that was bleeding and broken. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "God, how I hope that Margaret Mitchell was right!" Slowly at first he started walking, trudging his way into his tomorrow.
To be continued - Part 2If you have any comments or suggestions, please send them to Richard firstname.lastname@example.org Please include the story title and part # in the subject line of your e-mail.