Rewriting Singularity Ch. 08

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


I was caught.

“I spy with my little eye something round.” I rolled the ring between my fingers.

“And what does it say inside?” Hec asked.

I leaned closer to the lamp Hec so kindly turned on for me– light reflected off the simple band as I tilted it to see. I held my breath. It couldn’t be. “Is this a joke?” I asked as blood pounded in my ears. “This has to be some kind of joke–“

“No joke.”

I whispered the words “to JG always, HL” then shook my head. “I’m either delirious or dreaming.”

“No, you’re not.”

My legs turned to rubber bands. I was dizzy and sweating. A gazillion questions popped into my head. The first and last of which were: Why did this ring have our initials engraved inside?

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Hec studied my face, reached out his hand and touched my brow.

“You’re sick– running a temperature. Sit down on the bed,” Hec suggested. What? Sit next to his nakedness? I’m all over that.

“I better go and get you something to get that temperature down–”

I didn’t disagree. I let my new night nurse fetch me a Tylenol and a nice tall, glass of water.

He got out of bed and wrapped a bathrobe around himself whilst I enjoyed the view.

“Want anything else?” he asked.

I pondered. Sex? Pickles? Chocolate? Number nine?

I settled on– “Ice cream?” — almost as good as number nine and less messy.

“Yeah, I can get that. But we only have chocolate.”

“Chocolate is good.” Shit, another brilliant line from my mouth. He flashed me a grin and was off, leaving me to debate with myself about my own sanity and his. I looked at the ring again, wondering where it came from and why it was engraved with our initials.

He wasn’t gone long, which didn’t give me much chance to fixate on my plight. He came back balancing a glass full of water, a bottle of Tylenol and two bowls of ice cream.

He made a charming nurse as he dispensed my meds with care, then handed me my ice cream. I even got kissed after. Now that’s good home care. Yes, he’d look good in one of the little nurse uniforms. Another kiss. He stripped and climbed back in beside me, retrieving his bowl off the nightstand.

“The diary will help you understand,” he said, scooping a big spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “I’ll try my best to fill in some other pieces.”

I hesitated. “I left the key in my room.”

He tugged my arm, his lips brushed my ear as the Everly Brothers crooned inside my head, Dream, dream. dream. No, not a dream, just felt like one, but all of this was surreal– maybe brought on by fever. Maybe real. And his heat close to me got me interested in more than the inscription on the ring. I made some feverish advances. I wanted to make his lips mine.

He ducked away.

“Look inside the front pocket of your Levis,” he nodded. “Over there on the floor.”

I had hoped my nurse would fetch the key, but I wasn’t that ill– and he was busy eating ice cream. I hated to get up; I’d miss more moments of Hec’s warm body and warmer lips pressed to mine– but Hec continued to eat, so I got my lazy bones out of bed to retrieve it.

My plunged my hand into the front pocket, and there it was. The Everly Brothers sang inside my head again. Dang song was stuck there. Not that I didn’t like that song, but it was starting to get on my nerves.

“How do you do that?” I asked, key in my hand.

He gave me that lopsided grin. “I’m sneaky.”

I knew that– but this was beyond sneaky. I stood in the bedroom in all my glory, wonder on my face and desire in another part of my anatomy, and I turned the key over.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“Who are you?” he whispered back with hungry eyes that pulled me back to him. God, I so wanted bağdatcaddesi escort his heat and covers in that oh-so-hedonist bed. I crawled across to him. Ahh, there was a hint of ice cream on those lips. I licked it off for him. Number nine.

My fingers caressed the curls at the back of his neck. I pulled back and searched those eyes. I was torn between my hunger for knowledge and my hunger for him.

“The diary?” Hec asked, brows scrunched.

Well of course, that was on the other side of the room. I felt a pang of disappointment when Hec got up to retrieve it. The shadows shifted, then lined his glorious derrière (my thumbprint conspicuously imprinted on one of those oh-so-perfect buns). I shoveled ice cream down my throat as I watched the live show. His body was a distraction. His mind a temptation. This spirit? Mind over matter. Or mind didn’t matter. I don’t really mean that since, well, I liked him for his mind too but– Mmmm, butt… yeah, I liked that. Wiggle it more pleeeeeease! And more ice cream. More Everly Brothers–

I need you so, that I could die, I love you so, and that is why–

He plopped back down next to me, eyes all puppy-dog sad. I didn’t know what to make of that as he handed me the music box.

Whenever I want you all I have to do is dream…

He lifted the lid, and it played a different magical melody.

He bent in, mouth on mine. Then his lips, cooled by the ice cream, nipped at my neck. Bite me. Now. On the neck. With teeth. Chocolate hickey kisses. Oh, god. He’s Count Chocula. And now he’s got a hold on my Frankenberries!

I pushed into his hand almost forgetting the ring in mine, the music box between us, and the diary in my lap. Almost.

Then Thump! Bang! Thud! from behind the wall.

“What the fuck was that!” I yelped, sitting straight up in bed.

Hec sighed. “I’ve never been sure–”


“What the hell?” I was seriously spooked. Good thing Nurse Hector was there.

“I don’t know where to begin with all this– it sounds so crazy. And you’re not feeling well. It might not be the right time except that the music box let you take the diary so I think it’s the right time– but I’m no expert.”

Thump! Bang!

“What the hell are you talking about?” I looked at the closet. Then came another bang from behind the wall.

“There’s just no easy way to say this so I’ll come right out. I’m–“


I prepared myself. He’s Alf. He’s Captain America. He’s Uri Geller. He’s Hans Holzer. He’s Oz the Great and Powerful.




But for some strange reason, I wasn’t surprised. I was beginning to believe in a lot of things I never would have even considered a week ago: destiny, supernatural, true love.

He helped me move the box into better light. He took the diary out, long fingers set the gift next to me on the bed, then they tipped the box. The light illuminated the inside. Chiseled into the bottom were the words:

To my dearest Johann, my heart, my soul.

Yours forever, Henry.

The lump in my throat was all too familiar; I reached beside me for the diary and held it to my chest.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” he asked.


“Either you’re haunted by Henry or you are Henry, but not both,” I said.

“I don’t think it’s Henry haunting me. Maybe it was one of the other, um, homosexual guests– like Walt Whitman.”

I laughed, then realized he wasn’t joking.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, he was one of the guests who stayed at this place. I found all the old ledgers signed by guests– you’d be surprised who came here. This was a popular place.”

“So good old Walt was gay?” I said. “I knew it, but beykoz escort I don’t think he’d come back from the dead just to bang on your wall.”

“Hmm. Maybe not.”

“So you carved this?” I asked, changing the topic. I nodded at the music box.

He laughed. “How is yes and no for an answer?”

“Ok, Mr. Metaphysical– straight answer this time: Do you think you carved this?”

“Yes,” he hesitated, “but not in this life.”

I’d read Jess Stearn’s book on the author Taylor Caldwell’s so-called past lives and was unconvinced that her stories were anything other than a good read about a hypnotized author with an overactive imagination (go figure– an author with an imagination). I’d read about transmigration of souls. I was familiar with the concept of reincarnation. Sure I knew all that hypothetical stuff. And ghosts? Hey, I’d watched Ghost Hunters alone in the dark, seen Peter Venkman kick paranormal ass in Ghost Busters. And yes, I had all the X-Files on DVD. That didn’t mean it made hearing the idea any easier from someone I knew and was just beginning to realize I had serious feelings for.

“I know this is hard to believe,” Hec sighed, then pointed to the book clenched in my hands. “Open the diary. Read it for yourself.”

Deep, deep down in the pitter-patter of my heart, I hoped that what he believed was true– that he wasn’t crazy and that I wasn’t going to be right next to him in a mental ward bound in a straight jacket gibbering mindlessly.

I unwrapped it slowly, like I was opening the biggest present under the Christmas tree, or hoping, like Raphie, that it was the good gift that’d been tucked away, the BB gun.

“I know all this is difficult to take in,” Hec said, shifting behind me. “Believe me, when I first stumbled on this I was confused. But the more I read, the more I saw the parallels in my life to his, the more I was sure that his life was somehow intertwined with mine. I showed this to Kate– she thought I was absolutely crazy– still does. She didn’t believe much of this. Then when you checked in here– I don’t know. I saw your name and hoped. And Kate– she saw your name and freaked. And when I met you, something clicked inside me–“

That would explain Kate’s reaction to me. At least some things were beginning to make more sense while others were–

I turned the key, and the latch fell loose. I reverently opened the cover, then cautiously turned to the first page. My fingers moved under the flowing letters. The ink neat and clean– the handwriting simple. I swallowed and read.

Was it going to be an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle or a football?

“I did some research after reading the diary.” Hec leaned his chest into my back. So warm. “Henry was an architect, a craftsman, a musician, a writer. Learned. A true Renaissance man.”

“Damn.” I read quickly and flipped to the next page, then the next. The first part of the diary was about the home– about how he, Henry, designed it. I turned the page. He described his plans for his home, a home where he could be “himself.”

“I found it in the attic not long after we bought the house,” Hec explained, reading over my shoulder. “Inside the music box– right where you found it. The first time I reached in the box, I couldn’t take it out. Then–“

“It let you,” I finished. Spooky. “This is amazing. I don’t know what to say– to think,” I said. But reincarnation? He is Henry, and I am Johann?

“Strange things happened in the house from the moment I came here. Same as to you– I blamed it on someone else. Frankly, I thought Charlie was playing a practical joke on me for a long time.”

I skimmed pages as he talked. More information about the house– his carvings. The passageways caddebostan escort between–

“Finish your ice cream,” he suggested.

By now it was soupy but still tasty. I ate it and listened.

“He built this home as a safe place,” Hec continued. “Being homosexual wasn’t something men were open about. I mean, it was unspoken. In any case, Henry loved men, and he’d been loved back by them.”

I could tell. I smirked as I looked up at the carvings above me on the bed, and Hec laughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. Number nine.”

He began his little kisses– down my neck. The diversion felt so, so wonderful– especially since I knew I wasn’t getting a football. His mouth moved down, down, down. To my chest. Past my navel. Into my trail. On Mr. Happy. He gave him a nice, cool lick. Then the mouth– sucking. Oh, so fucking gooood. Those lips around my cock. He turned around. He looked spectacular– his cock bobbing near my own mouth. I watched. Loved looking at him. I took his length into my mouth, and he moaned. His throaty notes were more melodic than any music box. I clawed at the sheets as I fed on his cock like a starving man slurping and lapping and sucking. Cheeks hollowed. Damn. Neither of us lasted long. Muscles tensed, then with a muffled moan, I swallowed him. I came on his face.

What a perfect beauty treatment. He wiped his face off all over my legs and stomach and chest. I slowly returned to Earth. Admired him. Christ. He snuggled in next to me– diary almost forgotten. Almost. But Hec picked it back up and handed it to me.

In my post-orgasmic state, I leafed through the pages, scanning them. Costs for materials, construction, all included along with Henry’s daily thoughts on the progression of the home. Mostly in the first half of the book, almost two years, each entry was but a few meager sentences, then I came to a lengthy entry. I stopped and looked at Hec.

“People came here to stay as guests–” Hec explained. “This house was something of a retreat. A place to go for men who loved other men, but we didn’t know that when we bought this house. I remember the day we drove up with the realtor. The moment I saw this place, I knew it was mine. It’s hard to describe. The moment I stepped in the door, it was like I was coming home. I knew my way around the place instinctively.”

I recalled how I stumbled onto the secret passageway and started to second-guess myself. Was I drawn here too? I certainly didn’t feel the same sense of home that Hec had– then again, this wasn’t Johann’s home, or was it?

I was starting to believe.

I looked down at the diary in my lap. The pages turned on their own accord, as if some otherworldly spirit– no, it couldn’t be– Then the pages stopped. The first word at the top of the page: Johann.

Hec had watched the pages flip too, but he wasn’t surprised.

“How?” I asked, not knowing if it was Hec or some other force that flipped the pages. “Did you just do that?”

“I stopped wondering long ago,” Hec answered. “I quit wondering and thinking aloud since Kate began to think I was crazy when I told her. I mean, don’t you think it’s crazy?” He laughed when he looked at my face. “Of course you do. I don’t even ask myself anymore– I just accept what happens. It’s weird but sometimes I wonder if I am doing this myself, then there are other times that I think that maybe– now don’t think I’m insane here– maybe it is Henry or some spirit here doing things.”

“Ok, Dr. Smith, you and Will go back to the Jupiter 2 and get Robot. Penny and I will stay here and guard the Fruit Loops.”


“Yes, you sound crazy–“


“I believe you.”

I looked down to the open page. And Hec began to read the page aloud– it was all about how Johann came here. Johann the dreamer. Johann the astronomer. Johann, Johann. The man that Henry came to love. I don’t know how long he read for, but Hec’s voice grew hoarse and raspy. At last I shut the diary.

Henry and Johann.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one obsessed.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32