*...with a grain of salt*
Seems like the boards are a bit on the dead side. I'm hastily assuming two possible scenarios for this one:
1) Everybody is knee-deep into fantasy of the latest trash by J.K Rowling.
2) Hell finally froze over by way of Cracky devotees being instantaneously converted overnight of my love's lure and leaving me, the only sad soul left to suffer. (I don't know if this would make me considerably happier or make me finally commit suicide if ever it came true).
In any case, I'll go on ahead and post away for the mean time. I think it's time we stray away from the mope and stalk (and a little of troll) for a while and try something fresh:
It is in the best interest of common decency and basic art that not everything from the writer's mind is put down on paper. But what fun would that be if we cannot even publicly revel in our own sinister secrets, whimsy and desires.
A few of mine:
-I stood outside my family's sidewalk at night this one time, at the tender age of 7, waiting for a nearby neighbor to play with when a hulking man came and asked me if he could see my "gooseberry". I was a sweet obedient boy back then and I civilly told him that I did not know what he meant but he went on and unzipped my blue-white checkered shorts and dutifully took off my loose underwear. While I was in a mess of panic, I distinctly heard him muffle something about saliva being good for the skin, all along feeling him slobber over my shriveled "gooseberry" down below. My neighbor friend never showed up but soon the grunt finished his business and left without saying a word or even a little bit of caution.
I reported this situation, like the naive boy I was, to my brother as I would when finding a buried discovery or witnessing a cat being run over by a truck. He did not believe me.
-I was sodomized with a small oak branch [See: title] at 12 by a bunch of competing hooligans passing by our turf. I guess I deserved a bit of this because I took part as sodomizer to one of their fellow pullet thugs a past week then. I will not get into details but I'll tell you this : tree barks are a bitch.
-Creeping up to the big year of twenty, my body is unfortunately trapped to that of a fifteen year old boy (How it breaks the assumed pot-bellied, hairy-armed, bald, 40 year old image of this Anonymous!). I've had plenty of embarrassment and reassurance from all sorts of liquor, cigarette and movie clerks telling me how it's going to do me good to look this androgynously young in the near future but I have yet to see it.
-Heartbreak from the following:
Martha (more of her later)
Marian
Michelle
Joyce
-There is one incident in my youth that stands out the clearest not necessarily because it was the most painful or the most poignant but when sudden talks of revelations come up, it lights up quicker than any other dark notions I have in my mind.
It was midday; lunch time waits for us middle-schoolers, and a bunch of my well-meaning friends gathered by the accustomed corner of the typically empty basketball court. Usual bru-ha-ha: unrefined chatters of sweethearts and crushes here, jovial shows of dumb jokes there. Amidst all the pleasant sunshine happiness and wind-like brevity of minutes, a friend of ours sat broodingly across us and I noticed the possible trouble drooped in her shoulders. The girl (who for purposes of anecdotal privacy shall now be dubbed as TacoBell) appeared to have her eyes buried in her emaciated long legs. I went towards her slowly for I did not want to wake her up in case that she might have been asleep but as soon as I got closer, I heard the stifling moans and cries of a distressed person. TacoBell elevated her heavy head to see who was in front of her, trying to elicit with puffed bleary eyes this onlooker who is witnessing her open display of grief.
"My bro- brother..." - consecutive haulings of from her chest- "he's got cancer!"
I was taken back at the announcement. The desperate scream transmitted all the irreparable hurt in TacoBell’s splintered voice towards the vacuums of my own frail heart. I didn’t know what to do. I ran over to her like an intent lover, blundering for soothing apologies in her ear, clumsily assuaging her with hope, rubbing her exposed stem arms to somehow thaw the icy chill of her despair. She kept on wailing. She will not be consoled. World-hurt, weary TacoBell! She who dreads for her brother so! How I fell now what you felt then!