|Lost Children of Atlantis|
(c) 2006 Mychyl Kime (KimeNet Corp.)
This is a work of fiction. The people depicted in this story (to the best of the author's knowledge) do NOT exist. And these events are, for the most part, all the imagination of the author. More importantly, this is a work of science fiction (and, to a significant degree, fantasy), so while some of the situations may seem probable, and scientifically possible, that hardly means that this is to be taken as real. As for content... suffice it to say, eventually, this story may well turn explicit. I'm a stickler for a good storyline, though, so it might be a while til there's anything "offensive".
If you are under 18 years of age (or whatever the legal age in your area is) you must leave. Of course, I can't very well make you leave... but if you choose to stay, DON'T GET CAUGHT! It is neither my fault, nor the fault of this wonderful site, if you get caught running around here.
Also, if you are repulsed by the concept of homosexual romance and/or sex, please feel free to leave at any time. (In fact, now would be a good time.) But hey, it's your call, of course... I can't make you leave, either... but if you choose to stay, feel free... who knows, you might even change your mind! My only question is: why are you here if that's the case?
This is a new story, mostly independent of my older work; if you are interested in that, it's in HighSchool/Ukiah_Chronicles. I say mostly, because the main character (and perhaps an occasional "guest star") are based on the Ukiah Chronicles. The inspiration for this work is Symbiota Sapiens, written by the charismatic (if occasionally over-loquacious ;P) Dean. Feel free to go read. (It's an excellent story, really. Do go read it. ^^)
Please feel free to email me with your comments/suggestions at the address below. Or, if you'd prefer, you can IM me on the chance you catch me online. (I leave my IMs on 24/7, unless my computer crashes or gets force-rebooted for some reason.)
And now, without further delay:
I woke up, strapped to a table in a near-dark room, a single light shining directly into my eyes, and with the sense that I was definitely not alone.
I tried to move, to look around the room, but my head seemed to be strapped down as well. I couldn't tell for sure, aside from moving, since I still couldn't seem to feel anything, just a pervasive cold through my entire body... great, I berated myself, my wish killed my physical sensations... but as a contrast-darkened form stepped in front of the light, looming over my face, that thought was the least of my concerns.
"Who are you?" I demanded... or I should say, tried to demand, given that my voice was groggy, and that I was feeling a little helpless in this situation. "Where am I?" I tried to struggle against the bonds holding me down, only to realize my body wasn't responding at all.
"Well, well," a smooth, deep male voice said, from somewhere in the room. "You're full of questions tonight, aren't you, Mr. Avile?" The speaker seemed to almost be grinning as he spoke, as though this was all some kind of joke. Sick joke, I figured, but one person's perversion and all that.
The person standing over me spoke... not male, as I'd half-guessed from the silhouette, but that of a young female, bubbly and excited. "Don't worry about us right now," she said, her voice so cheerful I expected her to start blowing gum bubbles any second. "We'll explain everything. Later." She moved, and for just a moment, I saw a syringe in her hand, backlit by the overwhelming light hanging just behind her. Then, darkness overwhelmed me, and I was gone.
And memory decided to flood back...
I was standing on a warm field, surrounded by things I loved, and there in the center, holding me, his small frame pressed against mine, was Tyler, a sleepy sort of contented smile on his face, making him look all the more beautiful, almost magical. Everything around me, everywhere I looked, it all seemed... so perfect. Blissful.
And I realized how wrong it was. Tyler wouldn't talk to me anymore. Not since that day. Not since being discovered... since my friend caught us. It had only been a few days, by my reckoning, but it felt like an eternity.
The scene disappeared, replaced by the cage of ice, by my body crystallizing, turning completely, utterly blue. All the pain, physical and emotional, disappearing from me, driven out by the numbing ice-cold my body was becoming. Soon... there was no room for anything else. Just the ice, the unfeeling ice, a statue of frozen nothingness...
"That no longer is your reality," the male voice said calmly, bringing me back to wakefulness. "You are no longer subject to the ice... although soon, your body will be able to regain that... and revert it, as well... at your whim." He sounded almost sad to add that last, though for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why.
I sat up, glad that my body was listening to me again, and looked around the room. This room... was definately different. The walls were all some strange blue-green color, and had a metallic sheen to them, the floor a glossy-coated wood stained a similar color. I was sitting on a huge, elegant bed, silk sheets falling from across me as I sat up... and with a flush of confusion and modesty, I realized I'd been tucked into this bed wholly nude. Clutching at the sheets, making sure that at least the lower parts of me stayed covered I spotted the bearer of the voice. Tall, thin male, a little older than me, with wavy blond hair and eyes of the purest blue I'd ever seen outside of a paint store. "Where am I?" I asked him.
"We've been watching you for some time, Damien," he said softly, a slight smile playing across his lips. "And we will explain everything in due time. But now, you must be hungry, no? Eat, drink. Clean clothes are at the foot of the bed. When you are done, we can talk." With that, he gets up from the plush chair he was sitting in... the kind that you would sink into and have to fight to get out, from the looks of it... and calmly strolls out through the door. Just as I notice a silver serving-tray sitting just off to the side of the bed, a tall sapphirine goblet sitting next to it. And I realized I was famished... of course, since I couldn't remember how long it'd been since I'd eaten, or how long I'd been unconscious... that might be why.
A short few minutes later, the food was completely gone, the drink mostly so, and I'd thrown on the clothes left for me... silk boxers, Jnco jeans, a plain t-shirt and hoodie, all in the same aquamarine-blue as the walls of this room. Comfortable, and using the mirror-like off the serving-tray lid to fuss my dirty-blond hair into some semblance of order, I put on the socks and sneakers (the shoes Sketchers, and a matching bluish-green as well)... and for just a moment, fought with my mind to remember what happened, what brought me to this point...
Suddenly, memories came flooding back... Tyler and I, kissing... our closeness, cuddling, and lovemaking... him and I, behind the school, kissing... my friend TJ walking up... Tyler panicking and taking off... me going to his house, where he wouldn't even talk to me...
With a choking sob, I tried to invoke the ice-dream, the unfeeling numbness that I could always count on, before, to block the emotional misery of longing, or of loss. Nothing. The ice simply wouldn't come. Sighing, and with a heavy heart, I tried to banish the memories... and succeeded for the moment, though I wasn't going to expect that as a permanent solution. Getting up, knowing whoever the guy was, he'd be expecting me in the next room, and not about to frown on guest etiquette, even if I don't know how I got here, I walked cautiously out to the next room.
"Well, well!" I heard the female voice from before say, and matched it to a girl, apparently in her early-teens, sitting on a love seat in this room. She was wearing a bubblegum-pink babydoll tee that seemed almost too small for her, and a pair of short pink jeanshorts. Her fire-red hair fell loose, off her shoulders, and she had the slightest hint of freckles on her face, her green eyes following my movements as I walked in, as though I were some juicy feast on two legs. Next to her, I saw a kid... like, literally a kid, probably barely into double-digits, with sandy-blond hair just lighter than mine, and amber-brown eyes, swinging his sandal-clad feet back and forth. He grinned at me, but didn't say anything.
"So, our sleeping beauty has awaken," the girl continued. "It's a good thing, too... Chris was starting to worry about you." She smirked at me, then glanced at the closed door off to her right. "He said he'll be back shortly... so I assume we start now, hm?"
"Maybe you can start by telling me who you are," I said, still a little sullen about being, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped. I chose a recliner off to one side, a leather affair with silver-chased mahogany arms. The opulence of this place aside, I still wasn't exactly comfortable about being here, especially not without knowing where I am, or what was going on. Last thing I knew, before here, I was on my bed, in my house, wishing away the pain of rejection, of loss... I quickly clamped down on that, trying to focus on the here and now.
"Well, that's as good a place to start as any," the kid said, his forehead creased in thought. "The simplest answer for that is, we are the Guardians. We are the guiding light that keeps mankind on the path of progression, eventually to perfection." He looked as though he were about to say more, but then, a door to my left opened, and in walked... a dream, literally...
"Let me help you!" a strange, yet somehow, familiar, voice called.
I spun around quickly, almost falling once more, seeing a man, barely older than me, reaching out to me, as though to help me... or embrace me. He seemed completely untouched by the dizzying winds. He was extremely cute, and seemed to care, concern shining in his warm crystal-blue eyes, his flaxen-colored hair framing his face perfectly...
That same man was who stood before me, now, moving as gracefully as any ballroom dancer, but with a kind of implied strength that made me think of him as a protector, of sorts. He was dressed in bluejeans and a green button-down shirt, which was hanging open, showing his perfect chest and abs. He smiled, and for a second I forgot where I was, or even why that should concern me.
"Damien Avile... I have been waiting for this day for quite some time," he said in a musical voice, as though he was more inclined to sing than to speak. "Welcome, and well come thou art."