Oh did I?
The structure of it
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The Surly Bonds
- Thread starter citizen-seth
- Start date
The structure of it
Unless that doesn't count, but it kinda' does in my book.
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
The structure of it
Ahh. That doesn't really count, I think, as it doesn't give away any actual plot details. 2 more hints for you (that really aren't hints at all): Part 1 covers the school year from August to May. Part 2 continues from May to September. And Part 3 is set in October of the following year. Each part is about half as long as the part before it. And chapter 44 is when the fertilizer hits the ventilator.
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
A large part of it, yes. I've written the ending and a lot of the important parts. There are still some chapters interspersed throughout that I haven't really worked on, but they've already been outlined as far as title and events..
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
Chapter 12
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“Alternately, support from an external authoritarian power can insulate a dictatorship that might otherwise be susceptible to Western leverage, as with China’s role in sustaining dictatorships in Burma and North Korea against extensive Western sanctions and Russia’s obstruction of democratic pressures on regimes in Belarus, Armenia, and Central Asia. But for many regions including . . .”
Waylon’s eyes were crossing on the page. He shut the book he had been reading: The Spirit of Democracy and put down his pseudo-golden highlighter. Sitting in the Keep’s common room he looked up at the exact moment that Logan van Maaren chose to walk down the stairs. Logan had been conspicuously absent since the party on Sunday night.
“Fancy meeting you here Mr. Wood,” Logan said.
“You’ve got some balls talking to me.”
“Heh, well, you’d know just how big if we hadn't been interrupted . . .”
“Cut the shit van Maaren. Last time I checked rape is illegal.”
Logan made a face that feigned shock. “Rape?” He clasped his hand to his chest, “I would never!” He walked toward the table that Waylon was still sitting at and reached out to hold Waylon’s cheek. “Silly Waylon, you can’t rape the willing.”
Waylon jumped as a large hand squeezed the pressure point as the base of his neck. “No, you can’t. But he wasn’t willing . . . and he isn’t going to be.” James forced Logan around and put their faces just inches apart. “Now Waylon, I’m going to ask you a question and it's very important that you listen to it.”
“Okay . . ?” Waylon was glad to see James at his rescue, but he didn’t know where he was going with this.
“Way, do the numbers 843-571-3921 mean anything to?”
“No,” Waylon said shaking his head. “Never heard of them.”
“Logan do those number mean anything to you?”
He didn’t answer. “I think you do, but I’ll go ahead and explain just to make sure. 8 - 4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 2 - 1. If you call that number a woman is going to answer. That woman’s name is Deborah Fiderer, and she is the secretary to the representative from the 42nd district in South Carolina - one Mr. George van Maaren.”
Waylon’s eyes were wide with understanding; Logan’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Now surely,” James said to Logan, “I don’t need to explain who that is. or what will happen if you ever do anything like that again.”
James released Logan from his grip and took a step. “Everything’s clear?”
“Don’t ever touch me again Ravel.”
The trio stood looking at each other for an awkward moment before Logan began to walk away and out the door. Logan looked back at James and Waylon as if he wanted to say something else. The look on his face was anger, but he knew when to cut his losses. He opened the door and slammed it behind him leaving the roommates alone in the common room.
“Thanks,” Waylon said looking up at his friend.
“Don’t thank me,” James said. “Thank Google.”
-------------
The night was warm. Much warmer, James thought, than any night of the previous week. *He had tried to get to sleep early, but it was of no use. *Waylon had gone to bed soon after dinner, still not fully recovered from the previous night's party. While James had tried to be mindful of his sleeping friend, he couldn’t seem to make his eyelids grow any heavier. When James had last glanced at the clock it had read a quarter past midnight, but now it flashed 2:35am. *The moon's rays splashed through the window and onto the wall causing the spines of the books on Waylon's desk to shimmer in the light. James turned on his side, facing away from Waylon’s bed and the window, sliding his feet out from under the covers of his bed in the process.
Looking across the room to the shelf, his eyes fell upon a tiny gyroscope laying on the shelf’s bottom most tier. The little silver tangle of metal had been a gift from his grandmother just days before he had left home for college. Though he had found the contraption interesting, the way it endlessly spun when moved, seemingly like a compass always in search of an elusive true north, he had paid it no mind since he unpacked it to its present location. As James stared at it through the darkness he began to question himself. From his vantage point, he could see the tiny circles of the machine were moving - not the at the pedestrian speed that resulted from a gentle nudge, but with great urgency, as though some invisible motor worked overtime to power them.
Leaning forward, James reached out his hand to take hold of the tiny spinning machine. As he brought it closer he could hear a tiny whirring coming from its metal frame. He lifted the thing to his ear. A steady silver sound was coming from it, like a spinning music box. The sound was silver and warm, like a blanket that you could wrap yourself into and fall asleep in. As he listened to the sound he began to make out what he thought were words. He pushed the device into the skin of his ear as he tried to make out the repeating syllables. QUID . . . CLARIUS . . . ASTRIS
James shut his eyes, trying to commit the words to memory. As he did so he felt a gentle breeze move the hair along his forehead. When he opened his eyes again they fell not on Waylon asleep in his bed, but naked on a field of cattle. James pinched himself; surely he must be dreaming. Yet only after reaching out to touch the warm fur of the nearest bovine did James fully come to accept his current location. Though the inexplicability of the current situation was evident in his mind, James felt no fear or dread. His mind felt numb and warm, still wrapped in the warm blanket of the gyroscope’s music.
James’ feet began to move. He could not be sure if he was walking of his own volition or by some other force. Cows passed on either side of him. They stood rigidly asleep, unaware of his presence. Finally his feet brought him to a sight that was wholly familiar to him: the two-headed calf. Unlike the other cows, the two-headed calf was wide awake. The calf’s left head stared at him intently while the cow’s right head was looking up, transfixed on the starry sky. “Quid clarius astris,” it said. “Quid clarius astris?”
The calf’s right head slowly lowered its gaze and opened it mouth to whisper. James leaned forward to hear, his ear just inches from the animal’s mouth. “Only you know.” The head moved quickly, opened its mouth, and bit down hard on James’ right hip. James, seemingly regaining full control of his body jumped back. The right head, speaking louder now, repeated itself. “Only you know.”
An explosion ripped open the stillness of the night. A great red orange fireball was climbing into the sky from the direction of school. Both of the calf’s heads looked at him blankly and then bent down to absentmindedly chew on the grass. James’ ran in the direction of campus. He ran through the woods and past the little bay and the boat house. His legs made quick work of the distance between the stables and the Keep, but when he arrived the building was already engulfed in flames.
James shouted out for help, but it was to no avail. It was as though no one else on campus had heard the blast. There were no other students around, no teachers; he could not hear the sirens of emergency vehicles. The only sound was the roar of the flames from the burning castle. He ran around the building to the side on which he lived. He shouted Waylon’s name, but before the word could leave his mouth, white hot flames burst through the window.
He ran to the front door and, finding it locked, kicked it in. The wood gave way to a room aglow with flames. What used to be a lavishly decorated entryway was now a blistering furnace. Covering his mouth with his hand, he turned to go up the flaming staircase. His bare feet blistered as they landed on the steps, each one fully ablaze. A great cracking sound forced his attention upward just as a giant girder crashed down on top of him. Now pinned to the wall of the staircase, James struggled against the load, and pushed it out with all of his might.
He opened his mouth to cry for help, but black soot clouded his breath. Suddenly, a tall hooded figure appeared before carrying what looked like a body in its arms. The figure stood untouched from the flames repelling the fire from wherever its footsteps fell. Just as the figure stood looming above him, it opened its mouth to speak and the covers of James’ bed flew onto the floor as he sat bolt upright, his eyes wide with fear.
The sun was shining through the window, and Waylon was standing over him wrapped in a towel with a toothbrush in his mouth. “You okay, man?” Sounded like you were having a pretty bad dream.”
“Yeah,” James said feebly, still shaken by what his mind had seen. “It was . . . I don’t even know . . .”
“Well,” James said, “take a shower and clear your head. Class is in the thirty minutes.” James got up and as he walked to the bathroom, looked to the shelf on the far wall. Sitting motionless on the bottom level was his gyroscope. Once in the bathroom he closed the door and looked at himself in the mirror. His fingers grazed his right hip, where the calf’s teeth had come into contact with his skin during the dream. As he looked closer, he saw that there was something there in the arced shape of a cow’s bite. Somehow, as if stamped onto his skin were three small words: QUID CLARIUS ASTRIS.
Seth,
This is a spooky chapter.
Smart-Assed Logan - James certainly gave him a bit of come-uppance, but Logan is a spoiled, devious fuckhead.
The gyroscope is a mystical piece of equipment.
And the "dream" that isn't - really scary foreshadowing.
Is the explosion from our mysterious boy taking off after ET's phone call was returned?
So many things running around my tired head.
This is a spooky chapter.
Smart-Assed Logan - James certainly gave him a bit of come-uppance, but Logan is a spoiled, devious fuckhead.
The gyroscope is a mystical piece of equipment.
And the "dream" that isn't - really scary foreshadowing.
Is the explosion from our mysterious boy taking off after ET's phone call was returned?
So many things running around my tired head.
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Hmmm ... "Quid Clarius Astris" ... "What Brightness Star" ... "What a Bright Star" ...
Interesting! Time to start making some tin foil hats??
What a dream! Or ... was it a dream? I'm not particularly fond of the dark figure on the burning stairs!
And, why do I think this was not the last we'll hear of Logan?
I am liking James as "Protector"/"Rescuer"!
You are spinning a most fascinating tale, Seth! THANK YOU!!
Keep smilin'!!
Chaz
Interesting! Time to start making some tin foil hats??
What a dream! Or ... was it a dream? I'm not particularly fond of the dark figure on the burning stairs!
And, why do I think this was not the last we'll hear of Logan?
I am liking James as "Protector"/"Rescuer"!
You are spinning a most fascinating tale, Seth! THANK YOU!!
Keep smilin'!!
Chaz
it gets curiouser and curiouser
ThreeCrows
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This was yet another great chapter. I'm really glad to hear and see things from James' point of view - and his dream of the destruction at the school is chilling. So the first time James "found" the field and the two headed calf, was it was possibly in a vivid dream as well?
I was playing with the number sequences you've introduced:
Chapter 7
“Uh, yeah, 4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1,” Waylon said from the couch, still looking at the television screen. “Why?”
and
Chapter 12
"He didn’t answer. “I think you do, but I’ll go ahead and explain just to make sure. 8 - 4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 2 - 1."
Way and James' ID and SS numbers and Logan's father's phone number:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
8 - 4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 2 - 1
If you remove the numbers in-common in a strike method, you are left with :
0 - 2
8 - 3 - 9
The three and two are left because there were duplicates in each set - two 2's in the first set, two 3's in the second. If you remove the three and two based on them being in common in each set you are left with:
0
8 - 9
as the only numbers unique to each set.
0 is the beginning but also the end of the numerical set of 1234567890 - just look at your keyboard to check!
So, I am reading this combination as 890.
On the other hand, if we remove the 8 - 9 - 0 we get:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1 (SS/ID number)
4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 2 - 1 (phone number)
These can be slightly rearranged so that the combination could be:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
4 - 3 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
Looking at it this way, the 2 and 3 are unique. Twenty-three, 23, is the fifth in the sequence of "the numbers" - 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42 - from Lost, which you seem to like and reference a few times. And there might be a connection to the 23 Enigma, but maybe that's off.
Anyway, if you remove the two and the three and you have:
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
Using the basic alphabetic cypher method yeilds:
"DAGBCEA"
Which, is obviously an anagram for "Bad Cage!"
Okay, okay - I am not being serious I just like playing with numbers and really enjoy this whole "hidden in plain sight" vibe you have going through this story and of course look forward to the next chapter. Thanks and great job!
I was playing with the number sequences you've introduced:
Chapter 7
“Uh, yeah, 4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1,” Waylon said from the couch, still looking at the television screen. “Why?”
and
Chapter 12
"He didn’t answer. “I think you do, but I’ll go ahead and explain just to make sure. 8 - 4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 2 - 1."
Way and James' ID and SS numbers and Logan's father's phone number:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
8 - 4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 2 - 1
If you remove the numbers in-common in a strike method, you are left with :
0 - 2
8 - 3 - 9
The three and two are left because there were duplicates in each set - two 2's in the first set, two 3's in the second. If you remove the three and two based on them being in common in each set you are left with:
0
8 - 9
as the only numbers unique to each set.
0 is the beginning but also the end of the numerical set of 1234567890 - just look at your keyboard to check!
So, I am reading this combination as 890.
On the other hand, if we remove the 8 - 9 - 0 we get:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1 (SS/ID number)
4 - 3 - 5 - 7 - 1 - 3 - 2 - 1 (phone number)
These can be slightly rearranged so that the combination could be:
4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
4 - 3 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
Looking at it this way, the 2 and 3 are unique. Twenty-three, 23, is the fifth in the sequence of "the numbers" - 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42 - from Lost, which you seem to like and reference a few times. And there might be a connection to the 23 Enigma, but maybe that's off.
Anyway, if you remove the two and the three and you have:
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
Using the basic alphabetic cypher method yeilds:
"DAGBCEA"
Which, is obviously an anagram for "Bad Cage!"
Okay, okay - I am not being serious
I just like playing with numbers and really enjoy this whole "hidden in plain sight" vibe you have going through this story and of course look forward to the next chapter. Thanks and great job!
Dear Trio of Raven-like birds,
That's WAY too much like work for a poor, tired brain at this hour of workday, lol.
That's WAY too much like work for a poor, tired brain at this hour of workday, lol.
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
This was yet another great chapter. I'm really glad to hear and see things from James' point of view - and his dream of the destruction at the school is chilling. So the first time James "found" the field and the two headed calf, was it was possibly in a vivid dream as well?
Looking at it this way, the 2 and 3 are unique. Twenty-three, 23, is the fifth in the sequence of "the numbers" - 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42 - from Lost, which you seem to like and reference a few times. And there might be a connection to the 23 Enigma, but maybe that's off.
Anyway, if you remove the two and the three and you have:
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
4 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1
Using the basic alphabetic cypher method yeilds:
"DAGBCEA"
Which, is obviously an anagram for "Bad Cage!"
Okay, okay - I am not being serious
Um . . . wow!
I can't even believe that you just did that. Seriously - just awesome.
You're almost on to something there. There is a math trick that you can do with the numbers (plus the other reoccurring number that you seem to have left out.
However!! The numbers are explained in the course of the story. In Chapter 44 (which was origional chapter 42 to coincide with the answer to life, the universe, and everything else. Unfortunately, the story got in the way and forced me to shift it back a chapter, and throwing the plot out of galactic alignment.
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
A new, not spooky chapter will be posted shortly!
ThreeCrows
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Ahhh... what number am I missing? That's going to drive me crazy.
Hmm, well, the only number missing from the pool of numbers is 6 - so that stood out to me, but I didn't really see that as a recurring number in the story. Anyway, in various combinations you can complete the Fibonacci sequence using the pool of numbers. However, lacking the number six, it would stop at 610.
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610
610 is the F15th iteration of the Fibonacci sequence, but technically, the 16th iteration.
15 and 16 are also in the Lost numbers.
Also 15 is the number of horses in the stable at the school.
I am thinking maybe the number is 42? Logan's father's district? Possible connection in Way and James's room number 342 (third floor, room 42)? Also one of the Lost numbers.
Anyway, looking forward to more
Hmm, well, the only number missing from the pool of numbers is 6 - so that stood out to me, but I didn't really see that as a recurring number in the story. Anyway, in various combinations you can complete the Fibonacci sequence using the pool of numbers. However, lacking the number six, it would stop at 610.
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610
610 is the F15th iteration of the Fibonacci sequence, but technically, the 16th iteration.
15 and 16 are also in the Lost numbers.
Also 15 is the number of horses in the stable at the school.
I am thinking maybe the number is 42? Logan's father's district? Possible connection in Way and James's room number 342 (third floor, room 42)? Also one of the Lost numbers.
Anyway, looking forward to more
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
You're right about the 42 connection to the rooms, but the number you're noticing is actually a time. 
ThreeCrows
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argh... At the boathouse, Waylon looks at the plaque near the building’s door which shows that the school has been Conference, Regional, and National Champions 23 times. As mentioned a previous post, 23 is another Lost number. And the school won all three championships in the years 1984, 2007, 2008.
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
So close! Time of day!
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
So close, but it's a time of day . . . one that, for those on the east cost of the US is not so far away.
ThreeCrows
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Crap, the sign off from Charles Sloan (Chapter 10) is James and Way's ID's and SS numbers in reverse, totally missed that.
Chapter 7
“Uh, yeah, 4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1,” Waylon said from the couch, still looking at the television screen. “Why?”
and
Chapter 10
SFCFML - 153207124
421702351 (Way and James)
153207124 (Sloan)
Chapter 7
“Uh, yeah, 4 - 2 - 1 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 1,” Waylon said from the couch, still looking at the television screen. “Why?”
and
Chapter 10
SFCFML - 153207124
421702351 (Way and James)
153207124 (Sloan)
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
Many thanks to my over worked and under paid copy editor!
It had taken an hour to get ready. James had tried to give advice, but every outfit, regardless of James’ opinion, was imperfect in Waylon’s eyes. Finally, eleven shirts later, and well after James had given up on being of any help, Way settled on a pair of navy blue shorts and a dark blue shirt with bands of yellow and red plaid running through it.
“Are you serious,” was James‘ response. “That was the first shirt you tried on!”
“You just don’t get it. I have to look amazing.”
“Why? He’s already seen you drunk and half naked? What does it matter what you look like now?”
“But this is different . . . because . . . well”
“Because this is a date.” James’ voice was suddenly somber as he handed Way his wallet from its place on the desk. “You’re going to be late.” Waylon checked his phone. James was right, it was almost six.
“Alright, yeah, well, I’ll be back . . . not sure when, I don’t know? Ten-ish, maybe?”
He was almost out the door before James called out. “Hey, Way” Waylon stopped and looked back at his roommate. “Be safe okay? I’ll keep my phone with me all night.” Waylon cocked his head and smiled. Seconds later, the door shut softly behind him.
Cameron’s Infinity FX moved smoothly through the landscape. Apalansett, a town of just over six thousand, was a mere six miles from campus, and the drive was short. The town was like most other small New England towns in that life revolved around the port and at any hour of the day a small armada of ships was snaking in and out of the town’s port. Cameron deftly navigated through the small streets lined with shops and restaurants. Locals were taking advantage of the warm weather and eating on tables that seemed to grow out of every available space.
Finally, Cameron brought the car to a stop in front of a restaurant that, just like the ones on either side of it, advertised the freshest seafood in all of Massachusetts. The sign above the door revealed the place to be named “Crazy Horse” and through the window Waylon saw that the decor consisted of an eclectic mix of American West kitsch and typical maritime regalia.
“I assume you like seafood,” Cameron said as they walked to the door.
“Nope,” Waylon said flatly. “Can’t stand it actually.” The comment made Cameron stop in his tracks.
Waylon’s face split in a wide grin. “Did I just unnerve you for once,” he asked in mock astonishment.
“We can go somewhere else,” Cameron offered, holding the door halfway open. Waylon could see the gears of his mind working.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s called a joke. They have those in Canada, right?”
Cameron followed him through the door and called after him in his typical deadpan style: “Only in New Brunswick.”
Cameron asked the hostess for a seat out on the balcony, and they were soon seated at a table overlooking the harbor. The air smelled like fish and sea salt, and Waylon found it intoxicating. Gulls flew overhead and, at their own leisure, would swoop down to land on the deck or on the railing. The sun was still high enough to ignite the surface of the water in a undulating inferno that caused Waylon to squint his eyes against its brightness. In his mind he promised himself that he would never live in a landlocked state again.
Dinner progressed well. Waylon had crab legs and Cameron had a fillet of some fish that sounded uglier than it looked on the plate. “So, tell me” he said putting down his large frozen margarita-like drink, “what's your deal? You never smile, I think your voice only makes one note, you’re super pasty . . .” Waylon reached out and touched Cameron’s hand, “ . . . and you have super cold hands. Are you a vampire?”
Cameron raised his eyebrows in what Waylon thought was the most laugh-like expression his face was capable of making. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re totally the new Edward Cullen, aren’t you? Or maybe you’re more the Bill Compton type?”
“Edward who,” Cameron asked. “I am afraid I am yet to meet most of the new Freshmen . . . ?”
Waylon’s face fell. “Are you serious? Twilight? New Moon? True Blood? Vampires and werewolves? None of this is ringing a bell?”
Cameron shook his head. “I take it this is from a pop culture movie?”
Waylon tossed the phrase around in his head. ‘Pop culture movie.’ What did that even mean?
“Um, . . . yeah. They’re books, too.”
“Oh,” Cameron said. “Well, I can assure you I am not a vampire.”
“Good,” Waylon said taking another sip of his drink. “I liked the werewolf better, anyway.” At that Cameron made another confused expression, but was interrupted by the return of their waitress.
“Can I get you another Nantucket Sleighride,” she asked Waylon. He said yes, and before she could leave, Cameron finally asked for one for himself.
“The basic theory,” Cameron said, “is that gravity, in massive quantities, slows down time. For example, let us say that I was in a space ship traveling around an enormous black hole or some other large gravity well, and you were on another ship, much farther away, watching me. You would see me make an orbit every ten minutes or so, but for me, that same orbit would take only five minutes. So, imagine that I orbited that same black hole for ten years and then I returned to meet you at your ship. When I got to you, even though I would have only aged ten years, you would have aged twenty. So, yes, time travel is possible. In theory, at least.”
Waylon turned to look him and smiled. “So, you can understand quantum physics time machines, but you’ve never heard of Twilight? I find something so wrong with that.”
“As I told you,” Cameron said, “ I do not watch movies.” Waylon fought the urge to remind him that he didn’t watch ‘pop culture movies,’ but he held his tongue.
Once they left the restaurant they settled on walking along the waterfront. Waylon learned that, though he was awkward and a little still, Cameron could actually be quite talkative when the right subject was broached. Granted, so far the right subject had only been space and time travel, but still, Waylon felt that it was a good start.
Waylon abruptly took a seat on a bench facing away from the water and towards the row of business. “How about we change that?”
Cameron followed his gaze across the street to the small theatre that they happened to be stopped in front off. “Is this an ambush,” Cameron asked coolly.
“No,” Waylon said standing up. “This is a date.”
Cameron turned to him. “Tomato . . . tomahto?”
The attempt at a joke made Waylon smile. Maybe he had judged Cameron too soon. Maybe Cameron wasn’t as uptight as he let on. “Here, you pick what we see. Anything you want.”
Cameron studied the movie posters diligently. Finally he turned to Waylon and announced: “Julie and Julia.”
“Are you serious?! The first movie you’ve seen since who knows when and you want to see that? Why not something like that Nazi one? You know, something cool?”
Cameron looked at him and said as seriously as ever, “I am a very proficient cook.”
It was well past midnight by the time Waylon made his way up the stairs to the Keep. After their movie had ended, Waylon and Cameron continued to stroll down the waterfront, savoring the night. As they made the short drive back to campus, Waylon contemplated the way Cameron had slowly but steadily opened up to him. Perhaps it was the Nantucket Sleighrides they had with dinner, or, as Waylon preferred to think, it was his charm and personality. Either way, as he unlocked the door to his and James’ dorm, he felt no need to toil over the final cause.
He opened the door to find the room dark and still. James was curled up in his bed, making a giant ball of flesh and fabric. Waylon walked quietly to his bed and tried to undress as quietly as possible so as not to wake his sleeping friend. He stripped off his underwear and crawled under the covers. Looking up at the ceiling, he was startled by James’ voice: “So much for being home at ten. Did you hit it?”
“Um, that’s none of your business,” Waylon said propping himself up on his elbows. “But no, I didn’t. We didn’t even kiss.”
“Well, if it sucked that bad, then why were you gone so long? You should have texted me and I would have called you with an emergency. I could have fake broken my leg or something.”
“No,” Waylon said smiling. “It was actually really nice. He opened up, broke out of his shell.”
“So he’s not a total creep?” James was untangling himself from his sheets.
“He’s . . . different. Really different, and I don’t know how I feel about that. So, no, not a total creep.”
“On the creeper scale of Michael Jackson to Madonna, where does he stand?”
“Okay, first off,” Waylon said sitting up fully, “Madonna is not creepy, and second he’s a half step above Tom Cruise and scientology.” James seem satisfied by that answer.
The walk from the car park to Bell House was short. Cameron quickly open the massive front doors and walked to the back of the pink-stoned building. As he walked toward his room, he stopped at the open door next to his.
“Hey you,” Guy said. “Just now getting home?”
“Indeed,” Cameron said, taking a seat.
“That means you like him, right?”
“It was very enjoyable, yes.”
“Oh, come on,” Guy said swiveling around in his desk chair, “this is like the first date I’ve seen you go one in three years that I haven’t forced you into. You must really like this guy.”
Cameron lifted a copy of Dante’s La Vita Nuova from its place on the bookshelf and began flipping through the pages. “He is . . . important to me.”
Guy took a sip of water from the bottle he had been holding. “I understand.”
Chapter 13
Waltz
Waltz
It had taken an hour to get ready. James had tried to give advice, but every outfit, regardless of James’ opinion, was imperfect in Waylon’s eyes. Finally, eleven shirts later, and well after James had given up on being of any help, Way settled on a pair of navy blue shorts and a dark blue shirt with bands of yellow and red plaid running through it.
“Are you serious,” was James‘ response. “That was the first shirt you tried on!”
“You just don’t get it. I have to look amazing.”
“Why? He’s already seen you drunk and half naked? What does it matter what you look like now?”
“But this is different . . . because . . . well”
“Because this is a date.” James’ voice was suddenly somber as he handed Way his wallet from its place on the desk. “You’re going to be late.” Waylon checked his phone. James was right, it was almost six.
“Alright, yeah, well, I’ll be back . . . not sure when, I don’t know? Ten-ish, maybe?”
He was almost out the door before James called out. “Hey, Way” Waylon stopped and looked back at his roommate. “Be safe okay? I’ll keep my phone with me all night.” Waylon cocked his head and smiled. Seconds later, the door shut softly behind him.
--------------
Cameron’s Infinity FX moved smoothly through the landscape. Apalansett, a town of just over six thousand, was a mere six miles from campus, and the drive was short. The town was like most other small New England towns in that life revolved around the port and at any hour of the day a small armada of ships was snaking in and out of the town’s port. Cameron deftly navigated through the small streets lined with shops and restaurants. Locals were taking advantage of the warm weather and eating on tables that seemed to grow out of every available space.
Finally, Cameron brought the car to a stop in front of a restaurant that, just like the ones on either side of it, advertised the freshest seafood in all of Massachusetts. The sign above the door revealed the place to be named “Crazy Horse” and through the window Waylon saw that the decor consisted of an eclectic mix of American West kitsch and typical maritime regalia.
“I assume you like seafood,” Cameron said as they walked to the door.
“Nope,” Waylon said flatly. “Can’t stand it actually.” The comment made Cameron stop in his tracks.
Waylon’s face split in a wide grin. “Did I just unnerve you for once,” he asked in mock astonishment.
“We can go somewhere else,” Cameron offered, holding the door halfway open. Waylon could see the gears of his mind working.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s called a joke. They have those in Canada, right?”
Cameron followed him through the door and called after him in his typical deadpan style: “Only in New Brunswick.”
-------------------
Cameron asked the hostess for a seat out on the balcony, and they were soon seated at a table overlooking the harbor. The air smelled like fish and sea salt, and Waylon found it intoxicating. Gulls flew overhead and, at their own leisure, would swoop down to land on the deck or on the railing. The sun was still high enough to ignite the surface of the water in a undulating inferno that caused Waylon to squint his eyes against its brightness. In his mind he promised himself that he would never live in a landlocked state again.
Dinner progressed well. Waylon had crab legs and Cameron had a fillet of some fish that sounded uglier than it looked on the plate. “So, tell me” he said putting down his large frozen margarita-like drink, “what's your deal? You never smile, I think your voice only makes one note, you’re super pasty . . .” Waylon reached out and touched Cameron’s hand, “ . . . and you have super cold hands. Are you a vampire?”
Cameron raised his eyebrows in what Waylon thought was the most laugh-like expression his face was capable of making. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re totally the new Edward Cullen, aren’t you? Or maybe you’re more the Bill Compton type?”
“Edward who,” Cameron asked. “I am afraid I am yet to meet most of the new Freshmen . . . ?”
Waylon’s face fell. “Are you serious? Twilight? New Moon? True Blood? Vampires and werewolves? None of this is ringing a bell?”
Cameron shook his head. “I take it this is from a pop culture movie?”
Waylon tossed the phrase around in his head. ‘Pop culture movie.’ What did that even mean?
“Um, . . . yeah. They’re books, too.”
“Oh,” Cameron said. “Well, I can assure you I am not a vampire.”
“Good,” Waylon said taking another sip of his drink. “I liked the werewolf better, anyway.” At that Cameron made another confused expression, but was interrupted by the return of their waitress.
“Can I get you another Nantucket Sleighride,” she asked Waylon. He said yes, and before she could leave, Cameron finally asked for one for himself.
----------------
“The basic theory,” Cameron said, “is that gravity, in massive quantities, slows down time. For example, let us say that I was in a space ship traveling around an enormous black hole or some other large gravity well, and you were on another ship, much farther away, watching me. You would see me make an orbit every ten minutes or so, but for me, that same orbit would take only five minutes. So, imagine that I orbited that same black hole for ten years and then I returned to meet you at your ship. When I got to you, even though I would have only aged ten years, you would have aged twenty. So, yes, time travel is possible. In theory, at least.”
Waylon turned to look him and smiled. “So, you can understand quantum physics time machines, but you’ve never heard of Twilight? I find something so wrong with that.”
“As I told you,” Cameron said, “ I do not watch movies.” Waylon fought the urge to remind him that he didn’t watch ‘pop culture movies,’ but he held his tongue.
Once they left the restaurant they settled on walking along the waterfront. Waylon learned that, though he was awkward and a little still, Cameron could actually be quite talkative when the right subject was broached. Granted, so far the right subject had only been space and time travel, but still, Waylon felt that it was a good start.
Waylon abruptly took a seat on a bench facing away from the water and towards the row of business. “How about we change that?”
Cameron followed his gaze across the street to the small theatre that they happened to be stopped in front off. “Is this an ambush,” Cameron asked coolly.
“No,” Waylon said standing up. “This is a date.”
Cameron turned to him. “Tomato . . . tomahto?”
The attempt at a joke made Waylon smile. Maybe he had judged Cameron too soon. Maybe Cameron wasn’t as uptight as he let on. “Here, you pick what we see. Anything you want.”
Cameron studied the movie posters diligently. Finally he turned to Waylon and announced: “Julie and Julia.”
“Are you serious?! The first movie you’ve seen since who knows when and you want to see that? Why not something like that Nazi one? You know, something cool?”
Cameron looked at him and said as seriously as ever, “I am a very proficient cook.”
--------------
It was well past midnight by the time Waylon made his way up the stairs to the Keep. After their movie had ended, Waylon and Cameron continued to stroll down the waterfront, savoring the night. As they made the short drive back to campus, Waylon contemplated the way Cameron had slowly but steadily opened up to him. Perhaps it was the Nantucket Sleighrides they had with dinner, or, as Waylon preferred to think, it was his charm and personality. Either way, as he unlocked the door to his and James’ dorm, he felt no need to toil over the final cause.
He opened the door to find the room dark and still. James was curled up in his bed, making a giant ball of flesh and fabric. Waylon walked quietly to his bed and tried to undress as quietly as possible so as not to wake his sleeping friend. He stripped off his underwear and crawled under the covers. Looking up at the ceiling, he was startled by James’ voice: “So much for being home at ten. Did you hit it?”
“Um, that’s none of your business,” Waylon said propping himself up on his elbows. “But no, I didn’t. We didn’t even kiss.”
“Well, if it sucked that bad, then why were you gone so long? You should have texted me and I would have called you with an emergency. I could have fake broken my leg or something.”
“No,” Waylon said smiling. “It was actually really nice. He opened up, broke out of his shell.”
“So he’s not a total creep?” James was untangling himself from his sheets.
“He’s . . . different. Really different, and I don’t know how I feel about that. So, no, not a total creep.”
“On the creeper scale of Michael Jackson to Madonna, where does he stand?”
“Okay, first off,” Waylon said sitting up fully, “Madonna is not creepy, and second he’s a half step above Tom Cruise and scientology.” James seem satisfied by that answer.
-----------------
The walk from the car park to Bell House was short. Cameron quickly open the massive front doors and walked to the back of the pink-stoned building. As he walked toward his room, he stopped at the open door next to his.
“Hey you,” Guy said. “Just now getting home?”
“Indeed,” Cameron said, taking a seat.
“That means you like him, right?”
“It was very enjoyable, yes.”
“Oh, come on,” Guy said swiveling around in his desk chair, “this is like the first date I’ve seen you go one in three years that I haven’t forced you into. You must really like this guy.”
Cameron lifted a copy of Dante’s La Vita Nuova from its place on the bookshelf and began flipping through the pages. “He is . . . important to me.”
Guy took a sip of water from the bottle he had been holding. “I understand.”
In a way, Cameron reminds me of...me. He intrigues me. He seems alien to me, almost inhuman with his frigidness. I look forward to more! This was, indeed, a pleasure to wake up to on this cold, wet, Melbourne morning.....
Much love!
MM.
P.S. It ain't the scale from Michael Jackson to Her Royal Madgesty (deliberate spelling error), it's the scale from Michael Jackson with Britney hair and Lady GaGa with no makeup/Mariah Carey in Glitter *pokes tongue*
(I love GaGa btw, just so we're clear).
Much love!
MM.
P.S. It ain't the scale from Michael Jackson to Her Royal Madgesty (deliberate spelling error), it's the scale from Michael Jackson with Britney hair and Lady GaGa with no makeup/Mariah Carey in Glitter *pokes tongue*
(I love GaGa btw, just so we're clear).
citizen-seth
On the Prowl
P.S. It ain't the scale from Michael Jackson to Her Royal Madgesty (deliberate spelling error), it's the scale from Michael Jackson with Britney hair and Lady GaGa with no makeup/Mariah Carey in Glitter *pokes tongue*
Mooriah in glitter = much scarier than anything these characters will ever have to face
