Date: Mon, 19 Oct 2020 11:59:04 +0000 (UTC)
From: David Patrick <davidtpatrickccf@aol.com>
Subject: Samhain Stories 2020 Chapter I

Disclaimer: This is a work of Gay-themed fiction with explicit sexual
themes, themes of dubious consent, and some horror elements; if you are not
legally permitted to read such material or are offended by it, please leave
now. Please remember that certain opinions and statements regarding race
and sexuality expressed by characters, are not beliefs held by the author.

The Haunting of Cockley Manor

	It was supposed to be an easy thing to do, but Alex was already
regretting his decision as he approached the rusted gate strangled by dead
ivy. He couldn't even see the manor behind the large trees even though the
guide book Oscar bought him said it was supposed to be enormous. He had
Oscar drop him off at the bottom of the dirt road, which was a much longer
hike than he had anticipated. He almost wished he had let Oscar drive him
to the gate but he knew if he had, Oz would have convinced him to back out
and he couldn't, so he got in his cardio for the day. He reached the gate
and hesitantly put his hands to the bars, mustering the nerve to give them
a tug. They would not budge. Maybe it was locked, maybe it was rusted shut
or the ancient vines chained the entrance shut to all intruders. He'd have
to climb it or risk going back to the dorms and being renamed "pussy-ass
bitch" by Mark for the rest of the Semester.
 	Mark had always been an ass. If someone was afraid they were a
pussy, if someone cried they were a bitch, if any guy wore pink they would
be a queer until Mark moved onto his next target. Mark could afford to
bully everyone and still have plenty of friends, at least in word and deed
if not at heart. Alex hated Mark and only suffered his presence so as to
share the suffering of Oscar, who was forced to endure the loathsome troll
by courtesy. If Alex knew Mark through any other acquaintance he would have
no problems avoiding the troll, but when it came to his roommate, Alex
couldn't disappoint him.
 	"Anything I can help you with, son?" Alex jumped. He was busy
looking for handholds in the vine and metal web that he failed to see the
man approach from the other side of the gate.
 	He wore gray flat cap, a faded plaid shirt under a tattered coat,
and dirty trousers that seemed clean in comparison to his heavy boots. He
was rather old, in his mid-sixties at the youngest and his height let him
loom over the young student. Alex was a decent height of five-ten so this
man was intimidatingly large. Alex thought that this is the point where he
runs down the road and avoids a gruesome murder by a creepy old guy but
there two things that reassured Alex that this man meant no harm. One was
his eyes, which in spite of his age sparkled with a youthful glint of
playfulness and mischief. The second was that this man was hot. Alex
couldn't believe that a man of this age could be so muscular, he was built
like a professional wrestler or a comic hero, his baggy clothes straining
from the pressure of his massive muscles. His face though wrinkled showed
showed signs of once being strong and very handsome, now decorated by beard
that is gray yet probably no less distinguished than in its youth. Alex had
seen "daddy porn" before, but this man before him was a real capital
letters "DADDY". He was more interested in men his own age, but he'd gladly
make an exception for this hunk. The man tilted his head a bit confused.
 	"Are you okay son? Are you lost?"
 	Alex shook himself back into focus "Uh...yeah-I mean no! I'm not
not lost, I just need to get in the manor."
 	"The manor?" the man scratched his head "What on earth would you
want to go in there for?"
 	Alex thought didn't know what to say he assumed he'd just go into
the manor. He didn't think anybody worked there or had even been in there
for decades.
 	"Um-school project" he ventured "on local history."
 	The man eyed Alex carefully "Is this because of a dare?"
 	Alex was caught, and he was to afraid to lie to the man who was
staring him down.
 	"Yes" he squeaked.
 	The man glared at Alex for what felt like hours before grinning
"Well why didn't you say so?"
 	He pulled out a key and opened the lock with a large clunk, then
opened the gate easier than the rust and bramble suggested the task would
be.
 	"Welcome to Cockley Manor!"
 	Alex walked down the shrouded path with the unkempt stranger,
becoming more nervous as they neared the manor proper. The old man's
presence was oddly comforting to Alex even though he knew the man could
kill him and have no shortage of places to hide his body. Alex felt a
breeze on his back yet it felt like he was being pulled by it more than
pushed.
 	The old man piped up "we don't get many visitors to Cockley. I say
we. Its really just me and the birds and the other critters around the
property. Not even students come around and here and young folks like you
love to scare each other with old ghost stories and pranks and such, right?
I though I'd be seeing Frat brothers flocking up here at least once a year
when I first came here."
 	Alex didn't really want to talk but he felt it was rude not to say
anything "The college banned hazing at the manor, because they didn't want
students getting arrested on private property."
 	That was a lie. Officially illegal activity is why Cockley is off
limits, but every one at the college knows its because of Cockley's
reputation. The last thing the school needs is to be pummeled with lawsuits
over kids being fed to a murder house. Fraternities and Sororities can't
have anything to do with the Cockley estate and any student caught daring
or accepting a dare to go into Cockley would face suspension or even
expulsion. Oz told Alex he should go to the Dean and tell them about Mark,
but its not like Mark would get any punishment worse than a stern warning
the privilege to tease Alex.
 	"It's not private property, son. It's considered a historical
landmark by the county and is protected from any alteration or
additions. Oh, I'm here because I'm the care taker, I'm not trespassing
unlike you. But don't you worry son, I won't tell. The job's pretty easy. I
just have to check out the place now and again, fix anything that's falling
apart, make sure the green doesn't get too out of hand, and just keep
everything together. It's lonely but I like the quiet. You can appreciate
having a little time to yourself, right son?"
 	Alex was little uncomfortable that the statement was directed at
him, especially because of how intuitive he was. He had never had any close
friends in High school and he only spent so much time with Oz because they
lived together.
 	The caretaker continued "I'm not sure why they have me fix up the
place since they're not making a dime off it. No, no museum, or tours, or
history folks coming around here. If I were in charge, I'd just sell the
damned place and turn into something nice like a hotel or a mall. Just what
the Boston area needs. More traffic! Ha ha! I guess people are really
scared of that old ghost story, everyone's afraid of the curse of
Cockley. Salem made the smart move and profited off their legend."
 	Alex didn't know much about Cockley; all he knew was that it was an
abandoned manor from the colonial age, anyone who entered was scared off
and some people died, though that could all be urban legend. He didn't get
a chance to look in his guidebook. He figured that if anyone could tell him
about the spooks he was about to face, it'd be the guy taking care of the
manor.
 	"Do you know anything about the manor being Haunted?"
 	"Ha! I knew it was a matter of time before you asked that, why of
course. Did my research before taking the job. The manor was owned by the
Cockleys for about three generations until James Cockley comes into its
possession. Popular fellow, talk of Massachusetts, attends every ball, and
is quite the heart breaker among the ladies I hear. So he has the manor for
about a decade, when the War happens. James is a staunch Whig, and puts
lots of money towards the war effort, but just as the War is wrapping up
James returns home and becomes a recluse. He goes unmarried, with no named
heir and the property goes to the banks when he dies but it never sells and
so it is sold to the town as a landmark at the start of the twentieth
century. There's no known reason why James shut himself up, scholars say he
may have had a mental illness or gained one during the war, a lot his
merchant vessels were sunk and he lost a lot of income, many of his friends
and family were lost in ensuing battles, you know when he returned he found
his favorite slave died of illness. Bad turn of luck, well worse for his
slaves. Sorry I didn't mean to offend."
 	Alex wasn't really offended, his mom's family was Afro-Caribbean so
he didn't have roots to American Slaves anyway. Besides, the man wasn't
downplaying slavery, he was just telling him the history of the Manor.
 	"So he's haunting the place because he's upset about his money or
friends lost?" I asked.
 	"That's what I've heard. People say he wants to be left alone in
his pain, driving away any unwanted visitors with horrible apparitions. But
those are the lucky ones."
 	Alex raised his eyebrows at this "Sometimes James Cockley takes a
victim. Every now and again a young man is left alone in the manor for
sometime, and people find his body later. Starved and dehydrated, their
clothes stripped off. Some say its Cockley, angry at his lost life and
lashing out at the youth who can live the full life he missed out
on. Others say its him mistaking the men for one of his slaves and
torturing them to death. It's hard to find a lot on these stories but I
believe the men killed are usually black or at least darker in
complexion. I think your guidebook has a few of the articles from more
recent times. A boy from the twenties, one from the forties, the sixties or
seventies; people really stopped coming here after that one. You know its a
shame those boys were taken so early in their life. The one from the
forties, Abraham something, they show his picture and he was really
beautiful, looked a lot like you actually, probably would have had a great
life."
 	Alex swallows hard, just about ready to run away and deal with
another three years of douche from Mark if he can get out. But as he looks
around for an escape all the trees seem to bend on his intended
destination, compelling him to look forward. His head screams with the
jeers and taunts he and Oz had thrown at the characters in bad horror
flicks they watched almost every night this month. But all his senses drown
out common sense; Alex feel the wind pull him along even though the sound
it makes seems to come from the house rather than behind and an alluring
perfume gradually intensifies as he continues.
 	"You mean James Cockley will kill...?" Alex couldn't manage to
utter the word "me".
 	The man stops suddenly and turns to reveal a stern scowl across his
face, his eyes stabbing straight into Alex's. The student is frozen in
place, believing that this will be his last second alive. In an instant the
scowl shatters into a joking smile.
 	"Of course not son! You believe that hokey tale. There's no such
thing as ghosts."
 	Alex releases the breath he was holding in and follows up "So then
why does everyone who goes into the house get scared off or die?"
 	"Mold."
 	Alex's jaw dropped at the absurdity of the claim that mold killed
so many people only to then realize the absurdity of finding ghost a more
plausible explanation to mold.
 	"That's right son mold. It's an old house, hasn't been cleaned in
ages. Hell, its essentially a mycology archive in there. Toxic mold grows,
people spend the night and breathe it in for too long and they end up
hallucinating ghosts and poltergeists. The house is ancient and hasn't been
cleaned for years-I'm a care taker not a maid after all-and lots of creepy
crawlies wander around there. And sometimes folks have real bad reaction,
so they do crazy things like strip and they're so wrapped up in their head
that they forget to eat or drink. The only reason it isn't more well known
is because the town likes the publicity."
 	"If those guys went in there wouldn't have someone gone looking for
them? What if they go with someone? Wouldn't they have gone back to check?"
 	The man sighed "Folks are really spooked by this place and it takes
a lot of them a while to gain enough courage to check, especially when they
think their friend is already dead. Sometimes bad things happen. Its fact
of life, there's not always some supernatural force, or conspiracy, or
higher power. Life's a bitch sometimes. That's good thing for someone your
age to know."
 	Alex was quiet for the rest of the walk down, and let the beefy
care taker continue talking. The care taker was very talkative and easy to
listen to. He spoke enthusiastically with an infectious levity, and Alex
thought he was very eloquent and charming in his delivery. Alex listened on
and off to the man's stories about the manor and his work around
occasionally sneaking a peek at the man's backside which was weirdly
hypnotic. Despite being covered by thick work pants and a coat the man's
ass protruded distinctly from his hips, swaying in such a way that it
jiggled with each step; Alex suspected the man was doing this on purpose
but he walked with a grace that made it impossible to rule out that this
was a consequence of the man's natural gait.
 	Alex was becoming more uneasy with each step, and he wondered if a
laptop was worth all this. He hated his old one for freezing just as Mark
was in the library with him, prompting him to explain his predicament and
granting Mark an opportunity to screw with someone. He wondered why he told
Mark about his problem when he wouldn't even tell Oz. As he thought, he
remembered it wasn't the first time he told Mark about his money
issues. Whenever he walked around with a shirt that was six years old or
couldn't buy a drink, he'd always tell Mark when asked. Mark would always
pull out his bloated wallet and thumb through more credit cards than one
person could need; sometimes he'd offer to pay for poor struggling Alex or
to buy it just to taunt or just to fiddle with his excessive amount of
bills. Alex never told Oscar about this, he supposed he told Mark because
it was cathartic to have someone to resent.
 	"A bit old, but still quite beautiful. Isn't she son?"
 	Alex was snapped from his thoughts and realized that they had left
the forest and came upon a wide open field with a large colonial manor at
the center. There were traveling along when the dirt path transitioned to
disheveled brick. As they approached, Alex saw that the brick structure was
faded and falling apart in places, the doors and shutter were nearly absent
of their white paint, the windows splattered with dust, and shingles
littered the front yard. Despite it's withered and hoary appearance, Alex
could tell this had once been a beautiful place.
 	"Cockley manor is quite an old place but you shouldn't have to
worry about it caving in or floors falling out on you. It's survived quite
a lot. Hardships and heart ache...but it should hold out for at least one
more night. It gets pretty drafty in these old places. You packed warm
clothes? A warm blanket? I hope you did because I can't let you set a fire
or anything for safety. What about food and water? You won't find any at
Cockley unless you have a palate for cobwebs, that's their specialty. Make
sure you have a light and not just your phone because there's no charging
station for you here. You're guidebook might prove an interesting read if
you enjoy a good scare or useful information, but if not then I hope you
brought something else to distract you. Other than that you should be all
set."
 	Alex barely had time to nod to all the man's questions and advice,
he spoke so rapidly. He wasn't really planning on doing much except finding
a place to fall asleep and hopefully not wake up until dawn. He hoped the
house was still furnished after all these years, so he could find a bed or
a couch to sleep on. If the was the price of a new laptop then he was going
to make sure that he was as comfortable as possible to spite Mark.
 	The caretaker suddenly turned when they got to the door "Oh you
might want to sleep on the floor, in a place like the kitchen or the hall."
 	Alex cocked his brow "Because of the mold?"
 	"Yes, it tends to congregate on and in the fabrics. Best to avoid
them, especially the bedrooms. And do you have anything in your pockets?"
 	Alex put his hand protectively to his pant pocket containing his
phone "Yes?"
 	"Best if you keep that in your bag. Too frequently do young folks
like yourself take something out of their trousers, put it down and forget
where they've left it or have it fall out without their noticing. Best to
keep it in a place where it is tucked away securely. Don't you say son?"
 	Alex nodded. The man was certainly odd though not perceptibly
threatening in any way. Alex thought there was something off about the man,
not just mentally though, the man as a whole seemed to not be in the right
place. The man stepped aside to let Alex enter the manor. Alex tentatively
took steps towards the door, which seemed to only grow larger as he
ascended each stair. His hand slowly reached the knob, but rather than his
own apprehension slowing him, it felt more that he was pulling back from
the door which was pulling him in even stronger. As he grasped the handle,
he turned to the caretaker who was looking at him intently, as if he was
expecting something dangerous or interesting to happen when he turned the
handle. Alex thought the caretaker would turn away when he the boy looking
at him, but he didn't. Alex stared for a minute, struggling to ask a
question that needed to be asked, but couldn't quite figure it
out. Fortunately his tongue worked it out for him.
 	"The...the curse or, you know, haunting. Is there any way to stop
it-I mean. I mean, don't curses and stuff usually have a way to ward them
off. Like a ritual or prayer, you know..."
 	The caretaker rubbed his chin "A way to dispel the curse? There
really is no way to stop it because its not a haunting. It's
mold. Though..." he looked toward the manor pensively "there was a
necklace. A charm that James wore everywhere he went, but after his
depression he was never seen with it. He wasn't buried with it and it
wasn't mentioned anywhere in his will or in the audit of his estate. I
think that whatever tragedy drove James into isolation is somehow tied to
that charm. Kept locked away in the house...locked away with him. James
can't leave as long as that agony is still here..."
 	Alex noted the caretaker's tone was empty of its flamboyancy, and
he wondered if he spoke like this because it was true. James Cockley's
ghost was real.
 	The man broke into a smile "Something I heard from the old
caretaker. Well, what are you waiting for. Go on in. I'll check in on you
in the morning. If you survive!" he said the last part in a mock spooky
voice accompanied by wiggling fingers. He stepped down from the door and
waved goof-bye as he left Alex alone at the manor.
 	Alex no longer felt that weird pulling sensation when he entered
the house which wasn't at all relieving. He felt like someone was watching
him, and he berated himself for indulging in such a horror cliche. The
manor was really nice for a place that hadn't had any major upkeep since
the nineteenth century. The layers of dust carpeting the floor were the
only indication of the time that had passed between visits. He went through
parlors, living rooms, and dining room before finally making it to the
kitchen.
 	With nothing else to do, he began to set up the place he was going
to sleep right under what he assumed to be the servant's dining table, and
put his phone and keys and other pocket junk away in his bag on the
caretakers advice. It was only two and wouldn't get dark for quite a few
more hours. He'd want to sleep before it got too dark or he'd never be able
to shut his eyes. He was glad Mark didn't insist on coming with him; if he
didn't sleep or if he jumped at something then he wouldn't have to listen
to it. Mark wouldn't do this, especially since he never had to do anything
like this, but that never stopped him from making other people do dangerous
or scary things. Alex thought `maybe Mark's sheltered life stops him from
having the confidence to do anything exciting, so he bribes other people
into doing stupid stunts so he can live vicariously through them'. Then
Alex remembered that freshman Mark made skate down the quad steps in
exchange for an Xbox and how the kid was denied Halo to cope with his knee
therapy which Mark said was fair because he didn't skate all the way down
the steps.
 	Alex heard his phone buzz and struggled for a minute to find, by
which time it had gone off thrice more. He looked and saw four different
text from Oz, each more worried than the last.
 	"Im dwn at the bttm of the road."
	"Im dwn by the road."
 	"Whr r u!"
 	"Plz answer!!!!!"
 	Alex texted back "Here. Im alive. Srry I didnt respond rite away
Mom."
 	"Srry, u were supposed 2 b here 1 hr ago. I got worried when u
didnt answer."
 	"Its ok. U dont have to stay here all night u know?"
 	"Ill be fine."
 	Oz messaged "If ur goin thru with this Im staying. But u dont. Well
tell Mark u stayed all night, and we'll go out to the city or something."
 	Alex rolled his eyes "He wouldnt fall for that. Ur a terrible
liar. Besides its not that bad. Its just one night."
 	Ozzie took a few minutes to respond this time "I can stay there
with you if you want."
 	Alex felt his heart flutter and rushed to shut down any fanciful
thoughts or feelings that came into his mind. Ozzie was his best friend. He
couldn't date his best friend. When he first met Oz, he thought he had hit
the jackpot. Alex never had many close friends and when he started college
he was certain he was going to be switching roommates or having roommates
switch on him for the entire first semester, but Oscar was a godsend. He
wasn't just nice, he was kind and thoughtful, he was funny, easy to talk
to, and would do anything for any of his friends. He had a lot of friends
from all different majors and clubs, and Alex would have never have talked
to any of them if not for Oz.
 	Oz was also not bad to look at. He played sports unprofessionally
and worked out at least once a week and he even got Alex to start going
with him. Oz always complained about his looks; his brown hair, blue eyes,
and white skin were undesirable features in his opinion, which he said he'd
gladly exchange for Alex's attributes. He often joked that he would never
get a date with Alex around him because "who would choose vanilla over
cookies & cream". Alex would laugh along while secretly thinking about
gorging himself on a gallon of vanilla ice cream. He knew Oz was hot, but
so were a lot of other guys on campus so he figured he could get over his
crush within a few weeks. But the more time he spent with Oz, the more
close they became, and the more open Oz was to walking around their room in
less clothing. There were very few nights when Alex didn't have to excuse
himself so he could go to the bathroom and quickly rub one out after seeing
Oz change in front of him or hang out in their room without a shirt. There
was scalding week in the spring semester when Ozzie started to sleep naked
without a cover on. Alex had sleep on his stomach the entire week or risk
exposing his boner.
 	No matter his feelings, Alex couldn't let Ozzie know how he felt
about him. Ozzie was straight, and if he found the roommate situation would
be to awkward to continue, and then he'd just spend the rest of college
going from roommate to roommate, never settling on someone he could get
along with. He and Ozzie would see less of each other because it would be
so uncomfortable and Alex would lose his only link to any form of a social
life in his college career. Alex would honestly prefer if Mark found out he
was gay, than if Oscar did. The former would mean constant ridicule and a
ceaseless barrage of favors and blackmail but the latter would lose his
best friend. No, Oscar couldn't stay. Alex alone with him in this isolated
place might make him slip up.
 	"No, I need to do this on my own. Thnx though."
 	"Ok" Oscar responded.
 	Their correspondence died down for the time being, which allowed
Alex sometime for himself to think. Here he was alone in a manor with a
history of slavery and black guys mysteriously dying, all for the sake of
laptop. He wondered if Mark had picked the house out of convenience or if
he was aware of the racist ghost and wanted to use that fact to scare
him. Mark wasn't one to shy away from subtle discrimination. A slight
squeak from the corner of the kitchen made Alex jump a little. He looked
around and noticed a small side door connected to a closet or something of
the like. He stared at it for about five minutes repeating in his head how
stupid he was for making the decision he was going to make. He walked over
to the door and slowly opened it to reveal that it was not a closet but a
long windowless hallway. Alex sarcastically praises his continuance in wise
decision making as he walks down the hall.
 	At the far end was another door and as Alex approached, he could
almost swear he heard heavy breathing. On the other side was a large room
lined with several beds, some full size and some queen size, and a door way
that seemed opened into what seemed to be a large washroom.
 	`The slave quarters' he thought. A light moan came from behind him
in the hall, he spun on his heel and saw nothing. As he peered into the
hall he noticed another door in the hall just adjacent to this room. He
wondered if the sound came from there. He slowly opened the door and
entered into a small chamber with bed that was noticeably nicer than the
one's in the slave chambers. He thought this might be where the overseer
slept, but it wouldn't make sense to have an overseer since Cockley wasn't
really a plantation. The room next over was for house servants not crop
growers. As Alex pondered he began to feel tired though not sleepy, he
needed to close his eyes for a minute. He found the bed in front of him
looked really comfortable and it wouldn't hurt if he just laid down for
five minutes. He shrugged off his backpack and flopped onto the fluffy
bedding, enjoying the softness of the blanket underneath and the perfect
support the pillow gave his head.
 	His mind wandered back to Oz. He thought maybe he should ask Oz to
come join him, its not like he'd be violating the rules set by Mark, and
then he'd have someone to talk to in this big creepy but mostly boring
house. A night of boredom was worth a new laptop to Alex though it not
Oscar. He didn't tell Oscar because he'd probably get Alex a new one; any
time Alex needed something he'd always get it for him. It wasn't like with
Mark, who only paid for things to demean people or show off, Oz genuinely
wanted to help and whenever he did he went above and beyond. It was
uncomfortable for Alex to have his friend spend hundreds of dollars on him,
even for trivial things. In his first month Alex complained about some of
his used books falling apart and the next day he finds brand new copies on
his desk. He felt guilty, like he was using Oscar for his money. He didn't
want that relationship with Oscar.
 	He sighed "you'd buy me a fucking luxury yacht if I asked, wouldn't
you?"
 	"Anything for you, Adam."
 	Alex sat up straight, hair standing stiff, his eyes darting around
the room in search of the voice's origin. It was barely a whisper both in
volume and it character, having qualities more similar to breezes than
human vocal chords. He tried to place if that was the caretaker, but his
was much heartier and lively, with the warmth of a crackling fire. This
voice was like tingling sensation tiptoeing across your back. Alex wasn't
sure if he had even heard it correctly or if his mind was just playing
tricks.
 	A bang came from the kitchen and Alex grabbed his bag and raced to
see what it was. He wasn't sure why he rand towards the noise as he had no
way of defending himself if whatever made that noise wanted to hurt
him. Upon entering he saw a pan dropped on the counter from the rack above
it, before he could investigate further he heard a thud come from the main
hall. His opinion of himself lessening with each foolish step, Alex rushed
over and saw that a book had fallen over from a table at the entrance.
 	"Twelfth Night" he read aloud.
 	He went to put it back on the table until heard a door slam from
upstairs. He hurried to the landing and looked left towards hall spattered
with heavy doors.
 	"If I die. I kind of deserve it. At least maybe Oz will come
looking for me."
 	He began investigating doors leading into various bed chambers,
parlors, and washrooms until finally he came to the last two rooms. He
opened the one on his right into a rather unassuming bedroom, covered in
dust and decorated in faded red. He turned to the other door and took
tentative steps towards the last chamber, and his last chance to run out of
the house and back to safety. Obviously curiosity got the better of him and
he slowly opened the door to reveal nothing but a room filled with
furnishings covered by tattered sheets.
 	"Mreow!"
 	Alex jumped and looked down to see a black cat with bright green
eyes staring up at him from in the room. It approached and began rubbing
against his leg. He leaned down to pet it, relieved at the reasonable
explanation for all, or at least most of the strange things he just
heard. The knocked over the pan and the book and a breeze must have trapped
it behind the door. He felt a strip of leather around the cat's neck. A
collar. He guessed that perhaps it was the caretakers cat, perhaps used to
hunt down any rodents in the house or maybe just for some company. The cat
walked backed in the room and headed straight for a large rectangular
object. It began scratching at the sheet trying to see what's under
it. Alex obliged the feeling, figuring he'd just tell the caretaker his cat
seemed eager to get it off and he didn't want it to hurt itself knocking
things over. The object turned out to be a large mirror which gave him a
good view of himself, the room, and even much of the bedroom parallel.
 	He looked at the cat who looked at the mirror and then at him and
then left; bored with what had enraptured its attention not three seconds
ago, but that was to be expected of a cat. Alex went to go follow the
feline, but when he got to the stairs he heard moaning from the rooms down
the other hall. By now he had concluded that his mind was playing tricks on
him so he went to investigate just to put his mind at ease but as he got
closer he could hear voices. These too distinct to be mistaken for wind.
 	"Look man, I don't know what you want. But please get off me!" This
voice sounded like a young man with a sort of urban dialect.
 	"Always playing these games with me. I love the way you tease with
me." This voice gave Alex an ominous sense of deja vu.
 	"Okay, brother. Not that I ain't into swinging this way, but I just
met you!"
	Alex was nearing a room with large double doors and he could swear
he heard the rustling of clothes and the squeaking of a bed.
 	The second voice spoke "Oh Adam, why do you always sting me in such
a way. Do my sighs thrill you? If so then let my tears be thy aphrodisiac
and bring you endless pleasure." That was the voice he heard in the slave
quarters, but clearer and he could tell the accent was British.
	The urban guy shouted this man "Get off me fool! And I told you my
name is Aaron. Hey get away! Stop it! No!"
 	Alex burst in through the door ready to help whoever this guy was
but no one was there, the room empty. It was a fairly large room with a
massive bed, it's own fire place and a large bookshelf, filled with
classics like Shakespeare and Milton. Above the fireplace was a painting of
a young man, twenty something years old. He was fairly handsome with blue
eyes and a powdered wig. Alex could guess this was the last owner of the
house, James Cockley. He felt uncomfortable around the picture, not just
that it was watching him but that it was checking him out. It made him feel
naked and vulnerable. He left the room fast and returned to the kitchen as
soon as he could.
 	He was crouched under the table, trying to make himself as small as
possible, though he wasn't sure why. As dusk drew closer and closer he felt
more and more uneasy. He wanted so desperately to call Oz and have him pick
him up, but he couldn't just rely on Oz for everything. Alex texted him
good night and tried his best to go to sleep.
 	Alex woke up in one of the upstairs washrooms. He was in a tub and
completely naked. It was a strange sensation as if his body was not his
own, as if he wasn't in control. Soft lips pressed against his neck slowly
working their way down his shoulder blade. He tried to move, he tried to
speak, he tried to do anything but his penis was the only part of him that
would respond. He dreaded that he getting hard at his molesters touch,
cause whoever it was would no doubt take it as a sign that he was up for
sex.
 	"Getting excited are we?" the British voice whispered in his ear
"remember when I use to make you clean the stables or work in the garden
just so you'd get dirty and I'd have an excuse to wash you. No more
excuses. I can bathe you for as long as you desire."
 	The man's hand began moving down Alex's pecs, past his abs, just
reaching above his cock. The pale hand was almost ghostly against his light
mocha skin. A tongue circled around the crevices of Alex's ear, before
tasting his cheek.
 	"Arthur, sweet Arthur."
 	Alex was about to contradict but what he said weren't his words nor
was it his voice "You remembered my name, sir?"
 	"Yes, yes of course. Before it Alvin before that Alec and now
Arthur. I do ever so love these games of yours Adam."
	Alex hit his head on the underside of the table upon waking. He
wondered what the hell was with his dreams and who Adam was. Knowing he
would be unable to sleep he took out his flashlight and started to read the
copy of Twelfth Night he forgot to put back. It felt like hours when he got
to the part where Orsino was asking Viola as Cesario what kind of women
she'd be interested in. Bang! Upstairs, Bang! Bang! Bang! It like a
thunderclap reverberating through the whole house. Scared out of his wits
but knowing there was nothing truly to be afraid of, Alex packed his things
and made his way back upstairs. Without the glow of daylight the house
seemed oddly bigger and his journey through it seemed ten times longer than
it did the first time. Bang! Bang! His steps followed the rhythm of the
noise, heightening his nervousness. At the landing he around and as if
shouting to get his attention he heard a Bang! In the direction of where he
first met the cat. He thought maybe it was back, hitting something or
knocking things over.
 	Slowly he progressed along the corridor, glancing over his shoulder
every now and again expecting some pale specter to be behind him, but as
always there was nothing but darkness. Bang! From the red room at the end
of the hall. He peered around the corner and saw an open window Bang! And
creak open. Bang! Creak open. The wind on a busted window, that was all. He
was going to close but something told him not to enter the room, like it
was his last chance to escape. He shone his light around the room searching
for any dark corners where some phantom might hide but he could find
none. He entered the room and felt as if the door slammed behind him though
there was no indication that it did. He pulled the window closed and locked
it into place.
 	"Adam...you've come back to me" the voice, the voice that spoke
nothing but Adam, whispered into his ear. But this was no dream nor quiet
trick of sound. This voice was solid, present, tangible. Alex felt a hand
brush across his stomach and someone's tongue lick his neck. He dropped his
flashlight which bounced behind him, but he did not move nor even attempt
to look for it. He was frozen in place out of fear or by some outside force
or something he could only describe as desire. The man behind him removed
his bag from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.
 	"Adam, how I've missed you. How I've longed to feel you, to...taste
you. Come let me look upon that lovely face of yours."
 	Alex was spun around and at the moment wanted so desperately to
scream but could not. Though the powdered wig was replaced by natural brown
hair, efore him was undoubtedly the man in the painting he saw. Young,
handsome, extremely dead James Cockley.
 	"J-James-"
 	Cockley's face lit up "so you do remember my name. You normally
keep up the pretense of ignorance for much longer Adam. I suppose you are
as excited as I am, no time for toying then. Very well then, let's get you
undressed."
	Alex was in a silent panic; he was unable to say anything out of
shock yet he followed Cockley's instructions and began to strip himself of
all his clothing. He wanted to run, to get out and never look back but he
felt like he battling his own body to even resist the dead man's
demands. When Alex finished stripping he noticed Cockley was practically
drooling over his body, and Alex was very embarrassed that the
poltergeist's admiration were actually turning him on.
 	Grabbing Alex's hardening tool Cockley said "Very excited aren't we
Adam? Well you won't be needing those. Dispose of them, I want nothing to
get between us, not even a strip of cotton."
	Cockley motioned to the fire place that was now roaring with flame
and James obediently threw his shirt, underwear, pants, and even his shoes
and socks into the phosphorus pyre. Cockley grabbed him and threw him on
the bed. He crawled on top of Alex and immediately began licking his
member. Cockley was an expert at using his mouth, though Alex had never
expected to be good at sex, knowing he wouldn't last long whenever his
first time was, he wasn't expecting to cum so fast. Cockley didn't even put
his whole mouth around Alex's cock, before exploded three spurts of gooey
boy batter onto the ghost's face and tongue. Cockley didn't seem bothered
by the boy's premature ejaculation and when he swallowed the fresh jizz,
reaction could only be described as orgasmic. Cockley removed his jacket
and shirt to reveal pale unblemished skin on slim yet toned frame, then he
pulled Alex off the bed to kiss his lips.
 	"Dear Adam, it's been so long since we've played together. I hope
this time it will be forever."
 	Cockely put his fingers in his mouth before slobbering all over
them, then he brought them down to the crack of Alex's ass where they
slowly dug their way to the student's virgin hole. Alex wanted cry out in
both pain and pleasure. He'd never felt anything like this and the Cockley
pressing on his prostate was like electricity through his whole body. He
wanted more, he needed more. He was starting to wonder why he'd ever do
anything but love this beautiful man right in front of him. That's what he
wanted right a beautiful man who loved him.
 	Cockley pulled Alex into him so he could kiss and lick his neck "I
love you Adam. Anything you need, just ask."
	`Oscar' Alex thought `that's what Oscar says to me all the
time'. As he thought about his best friend and crush and what would happen
when Ozzie came looking for him, he looked down and saw the flashlight on
the ground. Unable to do much else he followed the beam of light which
landed on the large mirror in the opposite room. It took him a minute to
adjust his eyes but what he saw horrified him. As opposed the smooth
youthful figure of the man that was in the process of taking his virginity,
Alex saw a graying, emaciated corpse. Skin wrapped tightly around one, thin
wisps of cobweb like hair dangling off a mummified skull. Suddenly Alex
felt he had more control over his body than he did in the past ten
minutes. With panicked urgency he kneed Cockley in his groin, grabbed his
bag and the flashlight and sprinted out of the room and down the hall.
 	When he reached the stairs he heard "ADAM!" from the room. He
ignored it and leaped down the stairs and slammed his whole body into the
front door. Barely taking a moment to recover, he tried to open the door
but it was locked. He slammed into it again to no effect and the windows
near him were similarly stubborn.
	"ADAM! Where are you!"
 	Alex ran through the house trying every door and window he came
across, with little effect. He only managed to succeed in finding a
stairway to the cellar and as much as it was a bad idea to go in, staying
out in the open was even worse. He descended into the black abyss which was
filled with barrels of over aged wine, moldy foodstuffs, and other junk the
now deceased tenant never used. Adam searched around for a nook to hide in
and made himself as low as possible. The stone floor was freezing on his
feet and bare bottom, but he endured it for the time being. He made his
flashlight as inconspicuous as possible while he rummaged around in his bag
for his phone. He pulled out Twelfth Night, his keys, the guide book, but
he couldn't find his phone. As he was fishing through he noticed the light
reflect off something white in the corner of his eye. His guide book had
fallen open on some news articles that talked about a boy found dead at
Cockley. He picked it up for a closer look.
	The article was from the twenties and talked about a boy named
Arthur Johnson, which the article described as a half-negro boy who was
found dead, naked and undernourished on a bed in Cockley manor. He flipped
through the articles and saw similar stories about other young men found
dead in similar ways. The further back the articles went, the less
information they had presumably because a dead black kid wasn't dire news
in the nineteenth century, but when the articles did go into detail it
would often describe them as mixed or light skin. As he read on he got to
picture of a young man in WWII uniform. A boy who looked uncomfortably
similar to Alex; they could have been mistaken for brothers, even twins. He
read the caption which said "Abraham Walters, 19, August 22nd 1944. This
photo was taken by Walters' father two weeks before he was to be shipped
out to Europe." The next page had another photo of a boy Alex thought was
Abraham at first, but he then noticed that the date was marked 1969 and the
boy was named Aaron. Alex heard footsteps over his head accompanied by the
muffled call of "Adam".
 	`Got to piece this together or I'm as dead as they are' he
thought. Alex knew that he and all these other dead kids looked alike at
least enough to be confused for each other, all these guys died from
starvation while naked and in a bed, Cockley wanted to fuck them and claims
to love them, and he constantly confuses them for someone called Adam. Alex
went over his dreams, the guidebook, and his firsthand experience. He
needed to figure this out or he wouldn't be able to fight Cockley.
 	`That's right!' he thought `I couldn't fight him off. Hell I
actually wanted him for a hot minute...And that's all I wanted. Holy fuck!
That's why all these guys died. Cockley didn't kill them, he just messed
with their minds and made them forget about everything, even eating and
drinking, they just want to screw him...I am literally going to be fucked
to death. That's how I die.'
 	"Adam!" he heard Cockley getting closer; it wouldn't be too long
before he thought to check the basement.
 	`Wait' Alex reassured himself `Ozzie said he'd check on me in the
morning. He'll save me way before I die of thirst.' He furrowed his brow in
worry `but what chance does Ozzie have against a mind controlling ghost. If
this ghost really thinks I'm his boyfriend or whatever he's not just going
to let my friend carry me out of here. Fuck, he's going to kill Ozzie...no
he won't.'
 	With new urgency, he clawed the contents of his bag in search of
his phone. He found just as heard the door to the basement squeaking open.
 	"Adam?"
 	Alex texted "Hey Oz. I found a new ride. Plz dont wrry bout me. Ill
see you in class."
 	"Adam, are you down here?"
 	"Thnx 4 evrything.U do 2 much 4 me. Love you, man."
 	"Adam, I'm not mad" Cockley's voice was only a few yards away. Alex
quietly shoved his phone and flashlight into his bag and prayed to whoever
would listen that Cockley wouldn't find him.
 	"I pushed you too quickly. I'm sorry, but it's been so long, I
promise I'll go slowly. We can take all night if that is what you are
comfortable with. You are worth waiting for."
 	Alex held his breath, he could hear his footsteps close to him, but
he couldn't tell from where. Cockley sounded like he was on the verge of
weeping.
 	"Adam, please. I miss you, every moment you are away is a hell more
cruel than all the devils in hell could conceive. Everyday I burn with
passion and desire and I fear one day it will consume me but just I am
about to succumb to the inferno, you appear and your touch soothes my pain
and like a leper before Christ I am cured of all ailments. If you do not
desire carnality, then let me hold you. If you do not desire touch then let
me talk with you. If conversation offends then let me look upon that lovely
skin that Black men marvel at for its fairer hue and White men do envy for
their canvas was left blank while God painted thy flesh a color
Michelangelo could not match in beauty with all the world's dyes at his
disposal."
 	Alex found it very difficult to be flattered by a compliment loaded
with race prejudice being expressed by a dead guy. In the dark, right in
front of his eyes, Alex could just barely make out the light torso of the
phantom that wished to make love to him. He was stepping closer, soon he'd
be right on top of Alex. Alex put his hands to his mouth just as Cockley
stopped in front of him, and Alex had to fight the urge pull down Cockley's
pants and start sucking him off right there. All Cockley had to do was turn
and look down to see Alex, or really he just had to stand there for another
minute and Alex would be unable to resist Cockley. There was a clunk from
the top of the cellar steps. Cockley turned towards the exit and ran up
calling for Adam along the way.
 	It felt like hours before Alex finally heard Cockley's footsteps
fade away enough from earshot, when he crept up the stairs, headed for the
nearest door way. His eyes were so focused on placement of his steps that
he jumped when he saw the black cat at the top of the steps. He put his
finger to his lips begging the feline be quiet or at least be noisy
somewhere else. The walked towards down the hall and turned back staring at
him, waiting for him. While his brain told him to break the nearest window
he could find, his gut told him to follow the cat. Despite history proved
that not listening to his common sense was a bad idea, he still repeated
his past mistakes and followed the creatures lead. The cat led him back
upstairs and down the hall where the bedroom that belonged to James Cockley
was. He thought his common sense must be rapidly deteriorating to even
entertain the notion of going near the bed of the ghost guy that wanted to
bang him. But he could still hear Cockley calling for him downstairs so he
was safe for the time being.
 	The cat sauntered through the door, past the bed, past the
fireplace, and past the picture of Alex's would be accidental killer, and
stopped right before the bookshelf. Alex shrugged his arms at the cat,
asking what he was supposed to do. The cat simply stared at him with it
luminous green eyes, occasionally turning to the bookshelf. Alex started
pulling at books figuring there must be a switch on one of them. As he
thumbing through the Shakespeare books he noticed all of them were of the
same style as the copy of Twelfth Night and there was a space conveniently
empty within the collection. He grabbed the copy from his bag and carefully
placed it into the slot. There was a click and the bookshelf became loose
from the wall.
 	Alex opened the case and stepped aside to let the cat through but
found the creature had already left, content with giving vague directions
rather than being a constant companion. Alex went through and closed the
door he brought out his flashlight and looked around the room to see he was
in some sort of private office. Books lined multiple shelves, ephemera and
other scraps littered the desk, and opposite the desk was another bed.
 	`Well' Alex thought `at least if I get fucked it will be on a bed
and not on a dirty floor'. Alex searched the desk rifling through
correspondence, news articles, tax papers, and other useless junk. Finding
nothing of use he went into the desk drawer and found a leather bound
journal that was indeed James Cockley's diary. He remembered something the
caretaker had said about Cockley entering a depression just before the
Revolutionary War ended and Alex hoped his memory from middle school
history was good enough to get him through this.
 	He remembered the War ended in 1783 so he started from that year
and moved forward. James didn't write a lot about his time during the war,
he mostly just made a few notes on people he met with, where he went, and
maybe what he ate, but then Alex got to a particularly long entry on June
15th.
 	The entry read: "Loathsome hated day. Hated year. Hated life and
world. On that day of judgment they tell us that the oceans will dry, the
forests will turn to ash, and the earth itself shall shatter into
irreparable fragments. What a blessing, what a holy and joyous day for all
people, saint and sinner alike that will be, a welcome obliteration. For
travesty from this moment onward shall be celebrated more than the
resurrection of Christ. Adam has died and with him all that is good.
	I return from New York, weary from battle and diplomacy, assured by
a dear friend that the fighting shall end soon and that our liberty is
assured only to return home and find that all the principles and values we
had fought for were taken away by fever and buried, but not marked. Why
God? Do I cry sometimes and then to myself I ask "Why do you cry to air?"
There is no God, no holy order, no all loving divinity that would bring to
earth such a radiant Seraph and snatch him away without even condescending
upon him the honors given unto Christ. There is no God. There is no
devil. For if Satan had seen such a beauty in the world he and every demon
in his employ would have renounced their ways of sin and been born again in
service to this being whose virtue does fill Maria with envy.
 	A cruel trick of fate it to not let me confess those desires and
passions that roared in my heart when I first saw him, and burned a hundred
times brighter with each glance. Cruel time, plenty is given to man, but
the amount never specified. The loveless shrew is given a century to
torment her suffering spouse, but the pining love who woos in secret is
allotted seconds to utter feelings that would take eons to express in the
most basic form.

 	Adam, I remember the day we bought you, the happiest day of my
life. We were in New York at the time and father said I could pick any
servant I wished. Apart from the strong muscled men and the buxom women,
out of all those beautiful creatures with skin like jet, was you. A boy
with skin the color of coffee and cream, his not tight like his mother's
but not dully straightened like those of my clime. You must have been an
angel, for I knew of no being that shared your visage. I had father buy you
and your mother fearing the possibility doing you the slightest harm. You
were mine. I had you all to myself.
 	As is told by gospel I suffered from unnatural urges that offended
all that is holy, but you were holiness itself so to love you could not
have been sin. To not love you was a sin, and so in service to God I loved
you with all my being as any good Christian would, though I did so in
secret. I would court and meet with the shrieking wenches father wished me
to take an interest in, in hopes of producing an heir. In duty to him I
would have obliged and brought a child into the world, but my loyalty and
love will always be to you.
 	I have with me the charm you gave me, a wooden token carved to form
two links. A memory of your mother's home, she taught you to carve. Poor,
blessed woman. Tricked by a deceitful Dutchman who spun tales of wonders
and riches in lands far away only to sell away the girl who loved him when
she ceased to liven his bed chamber. I would hate this man for the pain he
had done to thy blessed matron, but I must love for he has performed a
miracle and produced an angel from sin. But now, the link is broken, I
remove the charm and lock it away. It shall be locked away in darkness and
so will I, for there is no world outside.
 	Adam, everything to see and experience was only so because you were
there. I loved you and even now I still love you. I hate myself more each
day, regretting that I never reciprocated the love which you gave so
freely. On the day my father died, you sat with me alone in my room and
with no ulterior goal, no trickery, you told that you loved me and that you
would always be by me. Now you are not, but you did not fail, I refused to
express my love and devotion to you and so I was undeserving of your
companionship.
 	I am having your grave dug and I will move you, the family
plot. You will be buried next to place where I am to be put. Many of my
associates will take about me going through such trouble for a slave, but
you are no slave. Months before this tragedy occurred I had your release
documents signed. I wanted to know that if you stayed with me, it was
because you chose so. Now you shall be laid to rest as a freeman though you
deserve much more than that. I only hope that when I am released from this
mortal coil, I am worthy enough to be buried next to you as your ever
devoted servant. I love you Adam. I you ever need of anything from me, all
you need do is ask."
 	A tear fell on the last words of the diary. More followed, and Alex
silently wept. While Cockley's story was sad and tragic, it wasn't the
source of his tears. But as he thought of those last words over and over,
"all you need to do is ask" he wept harder. Maybe it was envy or dread that
he would never have someone like that in his life. He choked in the back of
of his throat while attempting to laugh through a sob, and laugh at his own
ignorant stupidity. Oscar. He always had Oscar, and the more he thought
about it the more he realized how blind he was to his own roommates
affection. Presents for Oscar's other friends were nice and met the friends
expectation while his were exorbitant and a thoughtful. Oscar would
literally drop everything if Alex ever needed a ride and any social outings
Oz wanted to attend, he'd always ask if Alex wanted to join and even if he
didn't go he'd check every now and then to make sure Alex was okay. Alex
realized all the inconspicuous self-criticisms Oscar said about himself
actually contained rather heartfelt compliments about himself.
 	Alex laughed "If he's not in love with me, then I guess he's
literally the best friend in the whole world."
 	"Friend, lover, servant, and anything you wish me to be."
 	Alex's heart sank and he concluded that an abandoned house haunted
by a ghost that thinks you're his boyfriend is probably not the best place
to have an emotional epiphany. Cockley began rubbing Alex's arms and
kissing him along his back, and with brush of flesh, Alex could feel
himself falling deeper under his spell.
 	`No' he thought `I'm not going to die here. Just cause this asshole
missed his chance at love doesn't mean I'm going to fuck it up. There has
to be a way to stop him.' As he looked down at the diary page, his eyes
fell across the word charm and he remembered that the caretaker had said
something about the charm being locked in the house tied Cockley there or
something. That was it! Alex had his MacGuffin, but he couldn't go around
searching for it with Cockley here.
 	`I need away to distract him or lure him away or...' he smiled `or
just have him hand it over to me.'
 	Alex placed his hand over the one caressing him and stood up.
 	"James?" he asked unsure of how this would go.
 	"James?" the ghost asked. Alex was worried; the ghost seems to have
memories of all the other guys he kept here, wondered if the Cockley was
too used to the other "Adams" not knowing who he is.
 	"That's your name isn't it James?" He felt a deep kiss on his neck.
 	"Of course my love, I thought you liked to play your games where
you pretend we're strangers. You can tease me or we can go right to the
bed, either is fine with me. Whatever makes you happy. But I must say, I
still like the accent, I can't quite place it but it is ever so alluring."
 	Cockley gave Alex's right butt cheek a hard squeeze and pinched his
left nipple. It took all his strength to avoid turning around and making
out with the poltergeist for the rest of his short life. He took a breath
and tried to focus on Oscar, and that seemed to help. He took a breath and
prayed his plan would work.
 	"My love" he said awkwardly "do remember the charm I gave you?"
 	Unlike most times, his words were not paid with kisses or
affection, and Cockley just stood still for a minute. Alex hoped he hadn't
gone too far.
 	"Yes of course my darling. What of it?"
 	"I'd...like to see it"
 	Another long pause "Whatever for my sweet?"
 	"I...just, um, would like to see it."
 	"It's around here somewhere" he returned to kissing Alex's back
"but there's no need to worry about something like that. It's not
important. All we need is right here" he emphasized "here" by grinding
Alex's ass with cloth covered erection.
 	Alex took a moment to think of all those times he and Oscar would
just stay up all night talking about nothing important at all. He figured
that Cockley was avoiding the necklace because deep down he knew that Adam
died and to acknowledge the necklace would mean acknowledging the death. He
might risk Cockley turning violent but he had to risk it, hoping the
phantom's love for Adam was strong enough to overcome his grief.
 	"But I gave it to you," Alex tried to sound as hurt as he possibly
could "because I wanted to show you how much you mean to me. Are you
saying...my love for you isn't important?"
 	Cockley suddenly grabbed Alex by the stomach and pulled him close;
he tried to kiss his lips but Alex only gave him his cheek, afraid that
looking at Cockley would only strengthen his hypnotic effect.
 	"Never! Never Adam! Oh may God damn me forever for such cardinal
sin. No my love, my everything. Everything you have given me, your gifts,
your time, your glances, is more sacred and sanctified than the cross
Christ was nailed to. I'm sorry forgive me. Forgive your foolish servant,
of course I value it. It is a treasure. It's only that's been so long since
we have been intimate and I need your touch more than man needs air or food
or water. I promise you, after we make love. I shall fetch it and anything
you desire after that."
 	Alex could feel his precum drip onto his feet at the romantic's
proclamation. After one fuck, Alex wouldn't care about being able to
breathe much less the necklace, and Cockley probably knew that even if he
wouldn't admit it to himself. Alex to figure something else out; Cockley
wouldn't let him have the necklace without sex first.
 	"I understand James, but I do really want to see it. I love it
because it's proof that you've remembered me all these years."
 	"Never have I forgotten and never have I stopped loving you."
 	"Before you take me, I would like to see you wear it, but to
satisfy us both you can prepare me before you retrieve the charm."
 	Cockley kissed the backed of Alex's head "Mm, my love is so
generous and agreeable. Thank you a thousand times, come bend down and I
shall ensure your rosebud is opened well enough to allow room for a drone's
unworthy stinger."
 	Alex bent down and mentally prepared himself for the effect this
was going to have on him, but he just needed to survive until Cockley was
satisfied. As soon as Cockley put his tongue on Alex's asshole, the boy
realized he made a huge mistake. The tongue running along the length of his
crack, the swirling wetness at his entrance, small bites on his butt flesh,
and of course the tongue entering his virgin entrance drove Alex to near
insanity. It took every fiber of his being to not beg Cockley to plow his
ass right then and there. He tried his proved resistance method, he thought
of Oscar and all the good times they had, sneaking beer into their dorm,
playing Smash, trying to find this supposedly amazing doughnut shop in
Boston only to have Oz's car reach empty and have to push it half a mile to
a gas station in January. But when he thought of Oz and him going for
coffee each Saturday morning, a vision popped into his head of a what
looked like him lying on the bed with his legs up in the air and with
Cockley deep in his ass. The on the bed he and Cockley appeared again, this
time doing doggy style. There he was sucking off Cockley. He and Cockley in
a sixty-nine, missionary, reverse cowboy. The look on the faces of the
Alex's were in pure ecstasy. He wanted to give in he wanted to know what
that would be like, this could be him.
 	As thoughts of Ozzie began to fade in his mind Alex wondered which
position he'd want James to plow him in first. Looking at all the other
Alex's was like a more fun version of online shopping. He really liked him
and James doing it doggy style, and wondered if he could get the forties
uniform too. Alex shook his looked closer at the young man taking it on his
knees and felt that he knew this boy not from a mirror but from somewhere
else. Abraham! Abraham Walters the boy who died in 1944. The getting fucked
while standing was Aaron. Alex realized that these weren't visions of him
these were visions of boys who looked like him, Cockley's past victims. He
remembered their fates. Ecstasy and then death. No, he refused to accept
that fate but Cockley's spell was strong he wasn't sure how he resisted it
before.
 	`The mirror! I saw his gross corpse body in the mirror. He's only
hot when you look at him directly.'
 	With his last bit of strength, Alex reached towards his bag, trying
to resist coming while he reached for his phone. It hard to focus while
Cockley was tongue-fucking him but with enough effort he managed to reach
his phone. He saw his home screen had no new messages so Ozzie either
didn't see his text or he didn't respond, either way it strengthened his
resolved to see his friend. He noted that it was only ten minutes to eight
eight and was surprised that he was in this nightmare for such a short
period of time. He blinked himself back into focus and turned on his
phone's selfie-mode, to get a view of the man currently eating him out.
 	He started think becoming doomed fuck-slave to a ghost might have
been worth not having to see what he saw. Just as before, the body of
Cockley was transformed from smooth alabaster to emaciated, cracked skin
around thin bone. Alex he was going to throw up when he saw what was the
face that was giving him so much pleasure. James Cockley had no eyes or at
least his eyes were rotted until they were black, his nose and lips had
fallen off leaving dark, cracked nostrils and mouth full of cracked brown
teeth, he had no ears and the skin around his face looked like it had
peeled off in some places. Worst was the decayed, dried, black tongue that
was currently penetrating his virgin asshole. Alex wanted to scream from
fear and revulsion and pleasure. His cock was now only half hard, unable to
get to full mast do to the disgusting sight in his phone yet incapable of
denying the pleasure the corpse was giving him. For two more minutes this
went on; Alex switched between closing his eyes when the sight became to
vile and looking back when the pleasure became too intense. Finally Cockley
relented and left a trail of kisses from Alex's ass up to his neck.
 	"Well then my love a promise...is a promise."
 	Cockley went over to a picture above the bed Alex had not noticed
before. It looked like him, not drastically but one could assume that they
were related. The figure was of a nude man of Alex's complexion, with long
curly hair falling down to his shoulders. The picture wasn't professionally
done like Cockley's portrait, so it must be Cockley's amateur painting of
Adam. Cockley moved the painting to reveal a small wall safe. He opened and
from it he pulled the necklace that represented two chain links. Alex noted
that Cockley seemed to enter a sort of trance when he looked at it. It must
still be hard for him to accept that Adam died.
 	While Cockley was occupied, Alex quickly packed his things and made
sure his bag was strapped tightly to him. He looked around and wondered
what the best way to get out would be. The book case was closed and even if
he could open it he'd still be in the manor. He looked around and saw there
was window behind the desk. Looking, he saw a beautiful though unkempt
garden around an old fountain and quite a few large hedges just at the
bottom of the window which could cushion his fall. Even if he hurt himself
he'd just have to survive then he'd be free.
 	He turned to Cockley "James?" Cockley snapped to attention "could I
see that before I put it on you?"
 	"Of course my love." He smiled and handed the charm to Alex who
wrapped the necklace around his hand and checked off part 1 of his grand
three step escape plan.
 	Alex pretended to wipe sweat from his brow "I'm a bit hot after
those...wonderful things you did for me" Cockley beamed at the compliment
"could you open the window for me?"
 	Cockley stepped forward and kissed him on the forehead "Of course
Adam. Anything you like."
 	Step two was complete after Cockley opened the window, he stood in
front of it and began to remove his pants to reveal a taut, pleasant
backside. Alex strained to keep his eyes away from Cockley and focused on
the window. He'd get one shot at this.
 	Backing up slightly Alex kicked off from the foot of the bed,
getting as much momentum as he can from the small room. His right knee
shoots up and comes down smacking the desk while the force propels the rest
of the young boy's body with it. He bends to dive through the window as
Cockley avoids his fleeing lover in a split second; once his head is
through the window Alex jerks downwards, hoping to hit the hedge instead of
the ground. As the hedges approach his face fast and his knees makes it
past the frame, he stops and he swings towards the house, slamming the
wall.
 	"Adam! What are you doing? Are you mad?!" Cockley screams
frantically trying to drag the young boy back in the house.
 	Alex struggles and tries to kick at his captors face "Let me go!"
 	"Adam you're hurt! You're not well!"
 	"Let Go! Let Go! Let Go!"
 	"Please! You're not well! Let me help you!"
 	"I don't want your help!"
 	"Adam Please!" Cockley was bawling at this point "I love you! I
love you more than anything! You love me! Please come inside for me! We
love each other!"
 	"I don't even know you!"
 	Cockley stopped trying to Pull Alex in and merely stared at his
young lover, mouth agape in agony and horror. Alex to this opportunity to
shove his foot into Cockley's face. Cockley was unprepared and dropped Alex
who fell head on into the hedge and was knocked out for sometime.
	Alex wasn't sure when he woke up but it was still dark and his head
was throbbing. He moved each of his limbs to see if anything was broken or
dislocated. Fortunately no, he was just sore all over. After rubbing his
body over a bit he found that he was cut in a few places. He head was
bleeding but it wasn't a cut, just a scrape from the brick work. He assumed
he had bruising over his body but he couldn't see in the dark. He looked at
his hands to see if there was any permanent damage when he noticed that
Adam's charm was missing he patted the ground searching for it, he dug
around in the hedges and when he got out his light to look for it he could
see no trace of it anywhere. He wondered where it could have flown to? He
worried that Cockley got it back though that was unlikely. He thought he
was safe because the legend was that you had to get it out of the house not
off the property.
 	He was about to lie down and give himself a quick rest when he
heard sobbing coming from the back door of the house. He slowly approached
the door and when the flashlight hit the entrance there was the ghastly,
emaciated corpse of James Cockley. Alex saw Cockley's eye holes follow him
and could make out black sludge that were probably tears descend from his
face.
 	When Cockley talked it was in his voice but his mouth moved without
his lips, producing a gruesome effect "I'm sorry Adam. I failed you. I
Failed you again and again and I never learn. You should leave and be happy
for I never could I am undeserving of you and so I should suffer. All I can
do is wish all the joy that you could never have with me. I hope-"
 	"I'm not Adam!"
 	Cockley stopped moving and cocked his head to the side. Though his
decayed face allowed for little expression, Alex felt that this time he was
actually going to listen.
 	"I'm not Adam. My name is Alex, and no I'm not teasing you or
playing a game. I am Alex. I am a completely different person. Adam is
dead."
 	Cockley didn't respond but only shook his head.
 	"Yes, James. He's be dead for over two-hundred years and you knew
that but you didn't want to move on. You've been stuck in this house for
two-hundred and forty years, hypnotizing any guy that reminds you of Adam
and fucking them until they die."
 	"I would never hurt him!" Cockley spat in his first bout of anger.
 	"I know you wouldn't. You didn't want to hurt anyone. But you were
so obsessed with loving them, loving us that they couldn't eat or drink or
perform any basic survival functions. Then they died and you have to go
through losing your love all over again."
 	Cockley shook and mumbled "No,no,I didn't,I didn't want-"
 	"I know, but you did and the only way this is going to stop is if
you forgive yourself. I have someone that I love too" Cockley stopped his
ramblings and stared at Alex in intent silence "my roommate Oscar is my
best friend and I am hopelessly in love with him. I didn't say anything
because I was afraid that he'd say no and I might lose my best friend. You
didn't want to tell Adam you loved him because society says loving a black
guy was wrong. We both regret that. You missed your opportunity and that
sucks, but I haven't I might still be able to tell my friend that I love
him. But all those guys you accidentally killed will never get a chance
like that, and any other boy you decide is the new Adam. If you can't
forgive yourself then you're just going to spread more suffering, and it's
never going to make up for you not telling him. If Adam loves you like you
say he does do you think he'd want to see you suffer like this, and watch
others suffer?"
 	Cockley was silent for five minutes staring at Alex unblinkingly,
though he had no eyelids to blink.
 	"I want to step out, but I'm afraid that if I let go then I'll lose
everything. I'll lose Adam. Isn't better to suffer in memory of him than to
forget something about him?"
 	"I think you know the answer that James."
 	Cockley and Alex stared at each other for quite a while in a silent
conversation. Each understanding their own shortcomings, their guilt, the
people that were hurt, and how they hurt themselves. Their paths were
separate but parallel heading to the same destination. James Cockley took
his first steps outside of his home in over two-hundred years, and as
approached the young man who reminded him so much much of his lost lover
his body slowly began to reform. Bone was set back in to place, flesh
rejuvenated, eyes returned to their fullness of life, and hair
regrown. Alex was shocked not to see the handsome young man that had spend
the night attempting to make him his replacement lover, but an old man of
about fifty or sixty, bearded, graying, though still handsome in a sort of
distinguished way. Adam took a look at the man's penis and saw he was
decently endowed and wasn't ashamed at all at ogling the man who had
recently tasted his anus.
 	"You look so handsome with a beard."
 	Alex spun around to see a naked young man, extremely handsome who
looked a bit like himself. James Cockley rushed up to the boy and gasped
with tears in his eyes.
 	"Adam. My sweet Adam. Is it you?"
 	The boy smiled "Of course master James. I missed you. I'm sorry
that I've caused you so much suffering. I-"
 	Cockley grabbed the boy and shoved his tongue down the youth's
throat "You could never cause me suffering. You are my everything and the
reason to love life and death alike. I love you Adam. I'll say it every
minute for all eternity I love you! I love you!"
 	Adam motioned for James to wait a moment while he ran up to Alex
and hugged him "Thank you for bringing him back to me. I am forever
grateful to you."
 	Adam released Alex and returned to James who gave the student
gracious bow, before he picked up his young lover and they kissed and
fondled each other as they walked into the garden and faded away.
 	Alex felt a hand on his shoulder and looked around to see the nude
form of Abraham Walters saluting him in thanks followed by Aaron and Arthur
and all the other young men trapped by James Cockley's guilt. As he looked
them over he began to realize the amount of grief James carried with
him. All these young men though all gorgeous and probably gay as most of
them were playing with each other. They weren't identical at all. Some had
freckles, some darker skin, some lighter skin, some had brown eyes or hazel
eyes. Cockley must have been really desparate and lonely to have replaced
his love with men that could honestly at best be called cousins. They each
thanked Alex and went into the garden where they moved ontot the next life.
	Alex was exhausted, so he spread himself out on the soft grass, put
his backpack next to him and went to sleep for a whille.
 	James awoke again to violent shaking and sobbing. He thought for a
moment that it James Cockley but he remembered what happened and worried
there was another emotinally damaged spirit he'd have to deal with. But as
he came to, the voice sounded familiar.
 	"...ck...ake...lex...ome on...ake up please...on't be dead. Oh God!
Oh God! Oh Fuck! Fuck!"
 	Alex awoke to Oscar standing over his nude prostrate form pacing
about in hysterical state. He liked that Oscar was crying, happy that his
friend worried about him this much. He waited to see if Oscar noticed he
was awake but then he began hyperventilating so Alex decided to show a
little mercy.
 	"Hey roomie."
 	Oscar's eyes shot wide open in surprise and in a second he was on
top of Alex hugging so tightly he had trouble breathing.
 	"Fuck! Sorry. Oh Fuck. You're okay! What happened? Where are you're
clothes? Do you need to go to the hospital? Did someone do this to you?
Why? What do you need me to do?"
	 Alex looked carefully at his friend who was in a strange mixed
state of unbearable sadness, extreme joy, and panicking mom. He sat up
slowly, and took notice when Oz put his hand on his back to give him
support.
 	"Okay..." Alex began "In order: I fell out the window, I burned
them, no it's just scrapes and bruises, Mark though only indirectly, and
mold."
 	Oscar's mouth hung open in disbelief and the only word he could
manage was "Mold?"
 	"Yeah, hallucinogenic mold. Makes people do lots of crazy
shit. Didn't the caretaker tell you about it?"
 	"Who?"
 	"The caretaker, big old beefy guy. Let you in at the front gate."
 	"Gate was open."
 	"Oh?...He probably left it open in case I wanted to leave early. So
what are you doing here? I said I'd get another ride."
 	"Yeah it scared the shit out of me. `Don't worry about me', `Thanks
for everything', `love you man', `you do to much for me'. I thought someone
had a fucking gun to your head. Jesus don't scare me like that."
 	"I texted that at what seven, seven-thirty. Thinking I'm in danger
after one hour, that's a new record for you."
 	Oscar looked at Alex like he just grew two more heads "What?"
 	"An hour? Dude it's like eleven! I texted you like a hundred
times!"
 	"Oh!" Alex exclaimed "didn't check my phone sorry about that."
 	"Sorry! I thought I was going to find you dead in a ditch and I
almost thought I did."
 	"This is the grass, not a ditch."
 	"I don't fuck1ing care! I can't believe you would do this just
prove yourself to Mark. He's dick, why would you do anything for him."
 	"He's your friend."
 	"His dad works with my mom, we spent a lot of time together. He was
awful in high school he was a pure undiluted bully and in college he only
improved slightly to the category of all around douche bag. Why do feel the
need to please him?"
 	"It wasn't about pleasing him. I needed a new laptop and he said
he'd get me one if I did this."
 	Oscar turned a shade of pink Alex never saw before "For a fucking
laptop! You risked your life! Why are you so fucking stupid, how can you so
good at school and be this fucking dumb, how?!"
 	Alex shrugged "I could've gotten you a new laptop. You know this
about me. Why didn't you tell me?"
 	"You already get me a lot of stuff...it feels like I'm taking
advantage."
 	"You're not! You are my friend! I do things to help my friends
because they are my friends. What's to feel bad about?"
 	"Not like with me though."
 "What?"
	"You buy my books, you pay for my dinner, you buy me a clothes and
games if I even mention it once. And then there's that time you drove me
six hours home to New York."
 	Oz mumbled "It was on the on the way to my house."
 	"You live in Boston."
 	Alex was delighted by the bright shade of red Ozzie's fair skin was
turning.
 	"It's cause you're my-my roommate and my best friend. I'd do
anything for you. If you ever need anything just ask."
 	Alex cocked his eye and leaned in to kiss Oscar who caught quite
off guard by the move. Alex pulled away to gauge the reaction of Ozzie who
for the moment looked dumbstruck.
 	"Ozzie, I'm gay and I like you. As in someone I'd want to be
involved with romantically. If you're straight or if you're just not into
me that's okay. Even if I can't have you as a boyfriend, I'd still like you
as a friend and roommate and we can talk about this or not. Whatever makes
you comfortable. I want you to know because I care about you and myself to
much to not know how you feel."
 	Ozzie continued to stare at Alex in stunned silence.
 	"Ozzie?...Oz?...Oscar?"
 	"Huh?"
 	"Are you okay?"
 	"Um?"
 	"Did you not like that?"
 	"Uh?"
 	"Are you comfortable with us being friends and roommates?"
	"MM?"
 	"Okay, try nodding. See if that works" Alex thought for a moment
"Do you want to kiss again."
 	Ozzie responded with a vigorous shake of his head. Alex leaned in
and they spent the next three minutes exploring each others mouths. Alex
was a bit clumsy, biting Ozzie's lip a few times but Ozzie didn't really
respond much. Once Alex broke the kiss Ozzie seemed to reboot and shot off
his rapid fire of questions.
 	"Are you messing with me? Do you actually find me attractive? Can
we stay roommates if we're dating? I thought you were hot the moment I met
you, when did you get interested in me? Did just find out you were gay? Did
you know that I was gay? Do we sleep in my bed or your bed? When I made all
those come-ons to you, were you rejecting me or just oblivious? Can we kiss
again."
 	"In order: No I'm not, yes extremely look in a mirror, yeah there's
no rule against it, I thought you were hot the moment I met you and that
was reaffirmed three time when I saw you shirtless then in your underwear
then nude, I knew since high school, I thought you were straight, doesn't
matter, I was extremely oblivious, and yes obviously. "
 	Another five minutes of tongue fighting ensued, though this time
with a much more enthusiastic input from Ozzie. Ozzie, who had sexual and
romantic encounters before Alex was able to teach him a few things he
picked up along from his experience.
 	Ozzie was breathing heavily "I should really get you to my
car. It's out front. I don't have any bandages but we can stop by a drug
store-"
 	"No."
 	"What do you mean no? Alex you're bleeding."
 	"Yeah but not badly and I want you want fuck me."
 	"I know but-What?!"
 	"I want you to fuck me. I've never had sex before, we have
established that we like each other and we're alone. Let's fuck."
 	"Alex we can't do it here. It's creepy and you said there's a
caretaker, so what if he comes by? And I don't think either of brought a
condom-"
 	"You have anything?"
 	"Not since my last test in like April."
 	"Have sex since then?"
 	"No."
	"I'm a virgin so we're good."
 	"No, not good, I mean even if we would be safe it's not like we
have lube or anything-what are you doing?"
 	Alex tired of all the procrastinating he and his very new boyfriend
had been doing, decided to speed things along and went to work unzipping
Ozzie's fly and taking out his cock. Alex had never sucked a cock before
nor even touched another man's dick, but after watching porn almost every
night since high school, he assumed he could follow the basic
principles. Oscar didn't think they they should do this, but he was charmed
into it by his newly minted partner's insistence. Alex wasn't really good
at giving head; his rhythm was messy, he forgot to watch his teeth, and he
vastly overestimated his ability to suppress his gag reflex.
 	"It's my first time, shut up."
 	"I know" Ozzie gasped between laughs "but you're so bad."
 	"I'm only trying to get it wet anyways."
	"Oh that'll be quite funny."
 	"I will change dorms and make you walk forty minutes for sex."
	"Don't be like that babe" Ozzie tried out the word for Alex to see
if it felt right. After his dick was well lubricated by saliva, Ozzie laid
back on the grass and let Alex mount himself, enjoying the view of his
beautiful tanned skin and the lovely light brown penis he couldn't wait to
suck on later. He thought he'd let Alex fuck him as a birthday present. He
just sat back and let Alex set the pace for his first time, he was just
there for the ride or to be the ride more precisely. Alex lowered himself
down with ease, thankful for the thorough rimming given by James
Cockley. The sensation different to him, but in a good way. A lot of the
stuff he read on line said the experience felt not unlike defecating but he
didn't really get that sensation, it was just that he was filled when Ozzie
was inside him and he felt empty he was not. Alex spent the first few
minutes shifting around on Ozzie's lap, leaning forward and backward,
getting a feel for experience of a cock inside him. When he found more
comfortable position, he started moving, slowly at first but then picking
up speed and slowing back down when he felt uncomfortable. He was sure
Ozzie was hitting his prostate and he was bit surprised to find that it
wasn't like the male g-spot that erotica always told him it was. It felt
good, and it made him hard but he definitely wasn't going to spontaneously
ejaculate. Once he found a rhythm he liked and was going at it for a while
he decided to explore the other features of his new lover. He rubbed up and
down Ozzie's feeling the strong muscle that wasn't ripped steel like he had
thought it was, but still firm and pleasant to touch. Ozzie meanwhile was
giving Alex a similar treatment, fond of the slim figure that had toned up
a bit when they started working out together. He put his hands around
Alex's hips and to that adorable round backside that firm but also had a
nice bounce to it. Ozzie loved to stare at Alex's ass but Alex always wore
baggy clothing, and even at the pool he wore board shorts that were a size
bigger than needed. He would often have to wake up early and pretend to be
asleep while Alex got dressed, since couldn't ask his roommate to put on a
bikini brief or jockstrap just cause, though lucky for him, asking his
boyfriend to do it would be a different story.
 	With Alex's soft ass in his hands and around his cock, it wasn't
long before Ozzie came, and after his climax he used his hand to give Alex
a quick release. The new lovers collapsed on the grass, basking in the glow
of the moon and post sex high. Ozzie got up first took off his pants and
underwear, making sure to give Alex a good view of toned backside and gave
him his under wear and Jacket to wear. He'd be a pretty bad boyfriend if he
let Alex walk back to their dorm naked with cum dripping out of his ass. As
Alex got in the car he took a long look at the Cockley manor, and concluded
that the house seemed less ominous and more contented than before.
 	"So should we tell Mark or just start making out in front of him?"
Ozzie asked as Alex got in the passenger seat.
 	"Shit. I almost forgot about him. He's never going to stop asking
if I have balls or big floppy pussy."
 	"He doesn't know what he's talking about. That pussy is soft yet
warm and pliable."
 	"Shut up!"
 	"So, can I get you a new laptop?"
 	"Oz."
 	"Come on it's not like Mark will get you one. It won't be a big
deal I promise then after that I won't buy you anything too expensive
unless you ask me to."
 	"What do you think expensive is?"
 	"Over five hundred dollars?"
	"Seriously. What was your allowance as a kid? Gold bars?"
 	"I don't have that much money. Come Alex."
 	"I told you it feels weird when you buy me stuff like that."
 	"One day anniversary present?"
 	Ozzie showed Alex big puppy dog eyes that were equal parts annoying
and cute.
 	"Fine...but I want to do something for you to" he said while
rubbing Ozzie's thigh.
 	"Is it a blowjob because then I swear I'll swear I'll never buy
another thing if that's what you're offering."
 	"Fuck you. Fine, you pick. What do you want me to do."
 	Ozzie thought for a moment "Ever wear a jockstrap before?"
 	"I knew I was going to regret this."
 	With all malevolent presences vacated from the manor, Ozzie and
Alex had an easy drive past the campus, enjoying the view, the
conversation, and each other. Alex gave one last glance to the rusted gate
where his night had started. It was about five minutes to midnight when
black cat with glowing green eyes walked off the Cockley property, the gate
swinging closed behind it, a small token in it's mouth. It walked down the
road and into the night.



Author's Note: Firstly please donate to nifty, this is a great site that
gives me and many other creatives a platform to write about topics that
would be hard publish mainstream media platforms.

Thanks to Dave and Grant who emailed me on one of my Star Runner story
(don't worry that will continue). Getting fan mail even one's that have
criticism is such an amazing feeling because you know your work cheered up
someone's day and that someone cares enough to help you with your work,
either through critique or just encouragement.

Please make sure any criticism is constructive and respectful.