Date: Wed, 8 Mar 2000 01:16:14 -0700
From: wolf <wolfauthor@hotmail.com>
Subject: Desolation  Chapter 1  The Beginning

	One day, I decided I wanted to write a story. I tried a lot of
different plots with a lot of different characters. None of them seemed to
turn in to what I wanted. Some people say you need a muse to write, others
talent, and some say ANYONE can be a writter. I got inspired. It literally
came to me in a dream. It was a very powerful dream. This dream has
impacted my life for good and has sent me on a road I'm not sure I wish to
follow. The following is that dream. It contains acts of love between two
young males and may include some sex down the road. If you do not read that
type of stuff, then don't read the following. This is my first attempt at
PUBLIC writting so PLEASE email me with what your comments. If it sucks,
email me. If it kicks butt, email me. If its a heartwarming tale of a boy
and his dog.....you're probably reading the wrong story, but email me
anyways. The email's at the end. I would like to give a great BIG thanks to
Comicality. He gets many of these, but I hope he knows he's the only reason
I actually wrote this. Without him, the dream would be just that, a
dream. Now, as they say, on with the show..............


Desolation

Chapter I   The Beginning

	The screaming and yelling was non stop for a week straight. I'd
wake up to it every morning and I'd get sick to my stomach. The stress on
my part was unbearable and the migraines weren't getting any better. My
parents never loved eachother, and why they ever married and had a child is
beyond my comprehension. One thing was for sure, they weren't meant for
eachother and they showed it in every way, shape, and form.
	I was dreaming. There was a TV in an empty, grey, room. It was an
old black and white one with the knobs and ears and no remote (What'd they
do?! Get up to change the channel?!). The volume was on full blast. There
was a western on with a bar room brawl scene going on. There was screaming
and yelling and crashing of chairs over other people's backs. The volume
level was too high, so I tried to turn it down. No matter how much I turned
the knob, it wouldn't go down. The knob finally broke. I kicked the TV and
tried screaming at it, but I either couldn't scream, or just couldn't be
heard over the noise. I'm not sure which. Its all so vague now. There was
no color at all and the tile was checkered. The scene got worse. I watched
as the people turned into images of my dad and my mom and myself. This was
the first time I had ever seen myself in my own dream. Watching the
somewhat tall, thin, boy staring at me through the TV screen gave me the
chills. I hated his every feature, the zits that covered his face, the
horrible hair cut, the hair on his arms, his height. I couldn't stand
him. Then a bottle was broken over his head.
	I awoke on the floor next to my bed. The volume was still at full
blast, only this time, it was my parents going at it again. There was
something different though in the tone of their voices. Before I could
recognize the tone, I heard it. A crash and a thud on the floor. My mom was
crying and pleading to my dad. I ran out of my bedroom, half dressed, and
found my dad leaning over my mom with a broken bottle. The overwhelming
feeling of hatred, and fear, and the irony of the dream all snowballed into
one massive leap at my father. I knocked him down, but not before he could
get a slice at my face with the bottle. I beat on him, but he threw me
off. He whailed on me for 10 minutes then got up and took off through the
front door. I managed to stumble to my mother's side, and she said
"Everything gonna be fine Jake, just fine." in that crackling voice people
make while crying. I hate that voice. I heard it often. She got up from the
floor and went to her room, probably to drink just like she had done in all
the other fights. The difference was, in all the other fights, my dad never
laid a finger on my mom or myself. He just screamed and yelled and
threatened. I couldn't cope with all these new feelings and emotions. I
went into my room. My mom knocked on my door to see if my cuts and bruises
needed tending to, but I never answered. I had escaped through my bedroom
window and got out of that house, for good.
	Phoenix is hot and dry.  I've heard people tell me "Its not the
heat that gets ya, its the humidity."  If I hear someone say that once
more, I'll break their face.  115 degrees is hot with or without humidity.
I've lived with it this long though, and its getting easier to manage each
year.  Luckily, it was the middle of winter as I wandered the streets of
the suburbs.  Cool, kind of breezy, nice.  Winters are rarely cold.  The
suburbs are weird in Phoenix.  On beautiful days such as this one, people
are outside enjoying themselves and talking with neighbors.  In the summer,
however, the streets are bare and people are nowhere to be found. It
reminds me of those westerns I'd always watch with the tumble weed passing
by in the middle of a ghost town.  The people are friendly towards others
in the neighborhood but when it comes to driving and department stores and
restaurants, people are real dickheads.  That's life all over I guess.
	My house was located on the outskirts of one of the smaller
suburban cities and farms were everywhere on the outskirts of the
outskirts.  I wandered aimlessly for hours.  I had never walked that much
before in my life.  It must have been all day, for when I realized that I
didn't know where I was, the sun was in the western part of the sky.  I
vaguely remembered passing people along my journey.  People standing in the
garage, or mowing lawns.  They'd smile and a couple would say "hi" but I
was in a trance no one could take me out of.  I replayed the morning's
events in my mind and the hate and tears would return to me quickly.  One
person asked if I was alright, but I shrugged them off and continued
walking.  I stared into the sun as my mother warned me not to.  It was
something I did often.  I figured if I could make myself blind, I wouldn't
have to see all the bad that went on in the world.  Great reasoning huh?  I
decided to continue on my journey past house after house, and then farm
after farm, and then desert highway.  I was far outside any city life as
the sun neared the horizon.  I didn't know it at the time though, I was
still in my dream-like state.  I followed a dirt side-road that lead north.
I was suddenly shocked out of my void by the image of a short, almost
chubby only not, dirty blond haired, blue eyed, 12 year old.  He was
pumping up a basketball in a garage that laid near a concrete half
basketball court.  I just stared for a minute and couldn't take my eyes off
of him.  I finally looked at my surroundings.  I had followed that dirt
road through the desert landscape when suddenly the surroundings turned
into rows of trees.  This place was hidden by an orchard of some sorts.
The house this mini-god apparently lived in was small but quaint.  The only
way to the front door was through a maze of chain-linked fences and gates
with barbed wire on top.  If the fences were any bigger, you'd think you
just arrived at a maximum security prison.  Only these fences looked like
they were meant to keep the animals in.  The garage was next to the house,
the court next to the garage, and the stables and field were next to the
court.  Everything faced south and the sun, while still sitting on the
horizone, peered through the surrounding trees just enough to give it that
country look.
	"Dinner's ready!" came a yell from the house.  The boy looked up
disappointed and dropped what he was doing.  He darted inside leaving the
ball and pump to fall to the ground.  I stood and watched as he ran.  I was
stunned at the way I was reacting.  I didn't know what I was feeling.  This
was all new to me.  I was thinking all of this as it grew dark.  I was back
in my trance again, only this time, I was just standing there looking in to
the garage and watching the ball and pump.  Suddenly, the court's only
light beamed on.  The court lit up like the ones at school during night
games.  Out ran the boy again and he continued to pump the basketball as he
did before.  Once finished, he dribbled out, shot, and missed completely.
It was a very pathetic shot.  I played on occasion, but never joined a
team.  I still knew how to shoot and dribble and the rules, but this kid
needed help.  He shot again, and missed again.  He was holding it all
wrong.  I decided to offer my services just as he shot once more, missed,
and the ball came flying in my direction.  We made eye contact and he sort
of jumped, almost startled.
	"Woah, who are you?" he asked, kind of frightened.
	"Um..I....mmmm...uhh..." was all I could muster as I stared into
his beatiful blue eyes.  The court light bounced off of them, bringing out
little green sparkles with each movement of his head.
	"Well?" he asked, a little more confident this time around.
	"My name's Jacob."
	"Ok Jacob. What're you doing here?"
	"I just went out for a walk, and stumbled upon your house."
	"Dude, the nearest house is a good 10 miles from here.  You musta
been walkin' a long ways to get here."  he smiled.
	"Its a long story. I've got no where else to go, so I just walk."
	"Wanna shoot some hoops Jacob?" he asked still smiling.
	"Um, sure.  But I better warn ya, I'm kind of good."
	"And I'm not?!"
	I sorta laughed to myself.  He must have known I was watching.
That seemed almost like a direct joke.  We played for a while and I ended
up winning a couple (hundred) times.  We sat on the side of the make-shift
court and talked about where he went to school and where I did and who we
hung out with and all that clique stuff like music, movies,
clothing....etc.  His name was Timothy, but he prefered Timmy.  It turns
out he was into rock and alternative, liked skater clothes, played b-ball a
lot and hardly ever won except when he'd play on the team.  He asked if I
had a girlfriend.  At the moment I didn't, but I had my share before.
Wasn't exactly a virgin either.  I didn't tell him that though, I just said
"Nope, on a break right now."  I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his
face, but I couldn't tell.  That kind of annoyed me because I'm usually
incredibly good at determining what people are thinking, who they are, and
how they are by just looking at them and talking.  This kid kind of baffled
me to a point where I got frustrated.  I liked him though.  He seemed like
a good kid.
	We rambled on about eachother for about an hour before he realized
what time it was.
	"I gotta go.  I have school tomorrow.  Don't you?" he asked.
	"Um....not exactly.  I don't have a home."
	I wasn't exactly lying, but I wasn't telling him everything either.
Besides, in my mind, that place was no longer my home, and I never wanted
to return.
	"Maybe you can stay here tonight.  My parents don't usually allow
friends over on school nights, but maybe they'll make an exception this
time."
	"Nah, I don't want to be a bother." I tried to sound honest, but I
think he caught on.  I really was fond of him and I figured it couldn't
hurt to hang out with him as long as possible.
	"No bother at all dude.  Come on, I'll introduce you to my
parents."
	The parents.  This really wasn't good.  I kept thinking about my
parents, and other parents, and police, and running away, and all the bad,
and I got scared.  What if they wanted me to go back?  What if they forced
me back?  What if they called the police?  Would I go to jail?  I started
to panick.
	"No man, I really don't want to."  This time he saw it in my face.
	"Hey, there's nothing to be scared of.  My parents really are cool.
You'll like 'em.  They won't hurt ya.
	Somehow he forced me into it.  This kid was good.  I was also
somewhat willing just because he was asking.  So I was going to meet his
parents.

	Ok. So if you want to see this continue, you're going to have to
email me.  Its a hotmail account because I really don't want people knowing
who I am.  I really don't know if this is any good. I hate my writing
skills and actually, I rewrote this thing completely.  But I was advised by
the great Comicality to just post it and not read it.  So I will.  Any
errors are a result of that.  Please people, I need responses from this.
ANYTHING. I'm curious to know just how bad I am.  I'll be working on the
next chapter, so until then, thanks for reading!

											Wolf
										wolfauthor@hotmail.com