Date: Sat, 10 Nov 2001 16:36:11 -0500 From: W.B. Harrell Subject: angels tale 2 In the Arms of an Angel The Angel's Tale Chapter 2 Disclaimer: Don't read this if it would be dtrimental to your sanity or would cause you to commit a felony. Wisdom for today: When you least expect it, expect the unexpected. Chapter 2 We climbed the stairs to Jason's room as fast as we could. I felt like a dork after what his mom had said and what his brother had implied. Jesus! These people were so at ease with Jason's sexuality. They even felt comfort making jokes about it. I know how my mom would take it if she knew that I was gay. She would totally flip out. Jason grabbed my hand and led me to a room at the far end of the upstairs hall. There was a door with a sign that boasted in bright orange letters on a black background: NUCLEAR FALLOUT SHELTER. "Sweet," I said, admiring the creative touch of my lover. "Well...don't expect much," he said as he opened the door. "Say what?" I asked, thorougly confused by his meaning. His musical laughter rippled through the air and wrapped itself around me. I soaked in it for an second. "Well," said Jason, jerking me back to reality, "what do you think?" I looked around. This kid had a nice ass room! There were posters of Creed, Alanis, Poe, Cake, Sister Hazel, and others. There was a cow-pattern sofa in a corner next to a bookcase that look well used. There was a small T.V. hooked up to a Playstation 2. There was a strategy guide to a game called "Summoner" laying casually on the floor next to it. There was a small twin bed in one corner covered with a retro Star Wars ensemble and a few clothes littered the floor around it. There were Jason's school books on his nightstand. However, it was the musicallity of his room that caught me. Against one wall was a full-sized electric keyboard and in the corner next to it was an acoustic guitar. "You play?" I asked him, reffering to the instruments. "Yep..and trumpet, and saxaphone, and...oh shit, wait a sec, I've got something for you," he said and rushed over to the keyboard. "Okay now what was it?" he muttered to himself, "C, G, A minor, then...dammit what was it...oh yeah?" He plunked out a few keys and picked up his black guitar. "What is it?" I asked. He grinned a goofy grin that made me shake in my shorts. Damn, he was fine! I sat down on his bed. "Remeber this?" he asked as he began to strum his guitar and turn the tuning knobs at the end. He settled back on the stool he was sitting on and sighed. He began to play. I play guitar myself (not in a long time though) and I know quality playing. This guy could throw down! There was this thing he did while he changed frets that gave his playing an ethereal quality. Soon, a song began to formulate. A song I remembered all too well... Spend all your time waiting for that second chance for a break that would make it okay there's always one reason (He gazed at me with a loving stare.) to feel not good enough and it's hard at the end of the day I need some distraction oh beautiful release memory seeps from my veins let me be empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight in the arms of an angel fly away from here from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear you are pulled from the wreckage (His eyes began to glaze over.) of your silent reverie you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort there so tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back and the storm keeps on twisting you keep on building the lie that you make up for all that you lack it don't make no difference escaping one last time it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees in the arms of an angel fly away from here (I began to cry.) from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear you are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort there you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort here... His voice was pure love. Sarah McLachlan was second only to Jason Porter. "Jesus..*sniff*...Jason, I never knew," I said between sniffles. "I...uh," he said as he began to collapse into sobs himself. I knew what was happening. He was remembering his brush with death. "I need to tell you what happened that day," he said. He took off his guitar and sat next to me on his bed. He began to cry as he told me the saddest story I had ever heard in my entire life.