Markwildyr.com, Post #215
My post for March 5, 2020, was a piece of flash fiction I called “Battleship Rock.” Today, I’d like to repost the story. Why? I don’t know Maybe because it’s darker than my usual stories, and I feel dark today. Whatever the reason, here’s my picture of Battleship.
* * * * *
BATTLESHIP
ROCK
Jase Kipple had no idea how
much I hated him. Was I that good at hiding my feelings, or was he just
oblivious to what was going on around him? Don’t think he liked me very much,
but we both made the effort. Ours was a tight little clique, where everyone
knew everyone else and everything there was to know about them. Except for one
thing. I’d loved Jimmy Bradlee since we were both in mid-school and had even overcome
his small-town prejudices against boys doing things with boys. The first time I
got into his pants, he grew ashamed and resentful afterward, but within a week
he’d come sniffing back, and I managed to go even farther down that wonderful
road. He’d been shocked, but I soon had him moaning and groaning so much there
was no way he could claim he didn’t like it.
And then came Jase.
Good-looking, popular, hail-fellow-well-met Jase to screw up the works. At
first, I thought they were getting it on and about went mad with jealousy. Then
Jimmy started talking trash about what we’d done together and claimed it wasn’t
right. If it wasn’t right, why had he enjoyed it so much? Hell, we even did it
while he was protesting it wasn’t right. But things were definitely different.
And not in a good way.
In order to find out what was
going on, I had to make nice with Jase, and slowly managed to work my way into
a threesome… not the kind of threesome I’d like to try out, but a buddy
threesome, if you know what I mean. I had to pretend to like the son of a
bitch. I must have played my part pretty well, because I got so comfortable I
made a move on him—like I said Jase was a good-looking guy—and got shot
down big time. I had to endure a lecture about how it wasn’t morally right, and
how the world would come to an end if guys spent all their seed on other guys.
Big deal, either you do it occasionally or you don’t.
Despite his promise not to
blab, Jase must have said something to Jimmy, because my lover-boy shut me off
all of a sudden. After that, I saw through a red haze every time I laid eyes on
Jase-frigging-Kipple. But I had to play my part or get squeezed out completely.
So I became a “chastened, reformed” sodomite.
****
I didn’t really have anything
in mind when Jase, Jimmy, and me—and a couple of girls—set out in Jase’s Audi
SUV for a day trip north to Battleship Rock. Soon after passing through the
red-hued sandstone of Jemez Springs, a big volcanic escarpment hove into view
on the right. Looming two hundred feet above the evergreen forest below, it
looked just like the prow of a huge naval ship. After oohing and aahhing over
the daunting site, we turned off State Highway 4 into a parking area where the
San Antonio and East Fork of the Jemez Rivers meet. That’s not as impressive as
it sounds, because you can practically jump over either one of the rivers and
can almost do so after they merge.
The place was popular, so we
had to search out an open picnic site. After staking our claim, we wandered
around looking the place over and listening to the girls giggling… and me
eyeing Jimmy’s and Jase’s trim backsides.
I think it was Jase’s idea to
take the Forest Trail from the picnic area to the top of Battleship. I accepted
his challenge, although Jimmy elected to stay with the girls who just wanted to
wade around in the cold water of the merged rivers before setting up our picnic
meal.
For a good part of the trail,
we could walk side by side, but in some places, we had to go in tandem.
Inevitably, I found myself watching the play of the muscles in his back and
legs. Despite the fact that the trail was harder than expected, I was pretty
charged up by the time we got to the top. The broad, relatively flat expanse
was deserted—except for the two of us—so I naturally said what was on my mind.
He turned around and glared at
me. “Chuck, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in that sex
stuff. I like girls.”
“So do I,” I said reasonably.
“Apparently not the same way I
do. And you lay off Jimmy too, hear? Don’t go leading him astray.”
I fumed all the way to the
edge of the precipice where we looked down on a green forest made imperfect by
intrusive automobiles sparkling in the sun and human ants rushing around spaces
made for bears and mountain lions and foxes, and….
“Astray,” I said. “What do you
mean astray.”
“He let me know what you do
together. But I’ve told him it isn’t right. He’s coming around.”
“Coming around?”
“I told him it’s evil… what
you do. That you’re evil.”
“Me, evil. What does that
mean?”
“It means, you won’t be having
your way with him anymore. He understands you’re a bad influence on him. Before
we get back home today, he’s going to let you know you’re not welcome in our
group anymore.”
My vision blurred, I leaned
against a snag that canted out into space. I dragged air into my lungs with
difficulty. Two hundred feet below, my lover waited to tell me I was evil. That
it was all over. That the beautiful things we did were history. I gasped
audibly.
“What’s wrong?” Jase asked,
stepping closer, a phony note of concern in his baritone.
“H-having trouble breathing,’
I said, recovering my footing and standing away from the dead tree.
“What’s the matter, climb too
much for you?” There was no sympathy in the voice now, merely the condescension
of a physically superior being to a weakling. The red haze haloing my vision
intensified. I gathered my muscles.
“You need to rest before—”
I don’t think it was
intentional. Just a reaction. I put a hand on his shoulder and shoved.
“Wha—” he yelped as he grabbed
for my arm.
I snatched at him and managed
to hang onto a wrist. The force of his fall slammed me against the snag. He
dangled over the edge of Battleship Rock while I wondered if the rotting tree
would support both of our weights.
“Help!” I bellowed. “Help me,
I can’t hold him!” I felt the weight of a hundred pair of eyes fixed on me.
Jase began to swing, as if
trying to find purchase on rocks that were out of his reach.
“Can’t… hang… on!” I shrieked
at the top of my voice.
I stared down into Jase’s
beautiful, panicked blue eyes for a long moment before I let go. He managed to
cling to my wrist for a few more seconds before dropping into the void with a
scream that lasted impossibly long before dying abruptly. Collecting myself
both mentally and physically, I pushed myself away from the wind-smoothed wood
of the snag and made my way on exhausted limbs back down the trail to the
parking area where I was swamped by sympathizers proclaiming me a hero for
risking my life while trying vainly to save my friend.
After a moment, I saw the trim
figure of Jimmy Bradlee rushing toward me.
Damn, he looked sexy. And
he had no idea how much farther down that evil road I planned to take him. Now
that Jase was out of the way. Evil, indeed!
* * * *
The story uses
the word “evil” several times. And, I suspect it’s appropriate. But was this
murder, manslaughter, or what? Maybe some lawyers out there will tell us.
JMS Books has published
my anthology of nineteen short stories under the title Wildyr Tales.
Hope you’ll heck it out.
My contact
information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email:
markwildyr@aol.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr
Twitter: @markwildyr
Now my
mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.
You have something to say, so say it!
See you later.
Mark
New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at
6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.
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