SYNOPSIS
Jessie Fellows was born an
outcast and a man no one allows in their lives. He dreams in color, his
fantasies mirroring the insanity he fears might be his only salvation from his
burning desires and the ones others call disgusting. Inhuman. Living a life of solitude, music is his only salvation.
Taunted by more than just his increasing fears, he’s faced with demons he can’t
control and yet those giving him inspiration every day. Finally deemed a
lunatic by his only surviving family member, he’s locked away behind a façade
of hatred and loathing in a place he may never return from. His entire world is
ripped away with no hope of regaining and so he slowly begins to fade into a
private hell.
Michael Miller isn’t proud
of the facility he’s working in, but in the 1950’s there are few hospitals who
cater to the needs of the mentally ill – at least in compassionate methods. The
days are filled with the drudgery of lost souls and he’s ready to give up his
life’s work until a lone patient enters through the hallowed doors. He quickly
realizes the haunted man isn’t crazy, but simply searching endlessly for love.
Sadly, homosexuality is still considered a sin against God. Determined to help
Jessie regain his independence and his love of music, they embark on a
friendship and against all odds they fall in love. As both men are forced to
face not only their personal inhibitions but also their realization of the men
hiding behind their respective masks, a series of near tragedies drag them both
into a series of ugly accusations. As demons continue to surface, a single
decision will change the course of their lives forever.
EXCERPT
Secrets
and lies…
Jessie… Come to me. Don’t be afraid.
Everything will be all right. Only I can save you. Only I can help you. In
truth, you have no choice.
“No,”
Jessie moaned as he tossed back and forth. From somewhere swimming up from a
restless sleep, he realized he was having a nightmare. He was doing everything
to wake up from the horrors but it seemed as if invisible hands were tugging
him into a downward spiral. Terror raced through him as he aimlessly wiped his
face and punched his pillow. His skin crawled and he shifted back and forth
under the covers, unable to shake the horrid feeing. Moaning, he turned over,
willing the ugly visions away.
A
scratching sound was coming from somewhere in the room and he clenched his
pillow, sliding the softness over his head, smothering the eerie noise. “They
can’t hurt you. You’re just having a dream.” The whispered mantra had been a
constant as of late. What he wasn’t certain of was whether he believed what
he’d been trying to convince himself of. The brutal nightmares were getting
worse. Groaning, he laughed softly for a few seconds before tossing the pillow
aside and slapping his hand across his mouth. He certainly didn’t want to wake
his aunt. Just go back to sleep. Suddenly
the noises seemed to have disappeared.
Thank
God the wretched reverberation of the sing-songy voice was gone. Jessie
gingerly rolled over, every nerve standing on end. For a few seconds he heard
nothing but the slow drip, drip, drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom.
Breathing in and out, he honed in on the comforting noise as his eyes became
accustomed to the darkness.
He
was exhausted, having slept very little in the past several weeks. Sleep was
his enemy, one of his growing list of enemies. The presence was always with
him, a tortured soul much like his own. A memory perhaps? There was no way for
him to know. Jessie was never able to grab enough information, only the horrid
fears. He was never rid of the demon that seemed to know so much about him,
able to connect to his inner thoughts, his dark needs. Sadly, he had no way of
knowing whether the being was real or simply another one of his bouts with
severe depression, the thing keeping him from living a normal life. The one
keeping him living in squalor with a relative he wished was out of his life.
Or very dead.
The
wretched thoughts about wrapping his hands around his aunt’s neck remained with
him every day. Snorting, Jessie lifted his head, certain a boogeyman would come
crawling out from under his bed or slither beneath the crack at the bottom of
his closet door. After a few seconds he came to the conclusion there was no
such creature and almost laughed. His particular tortures were much less
tangible. How he longed for courage.
Hot
and wet all over, he exhaled and glanced toward the window, wishing there was
any kind of breeze tonight. He was sweating like a pig from the humidity and
the extreme heat. Boston wasn’t supposed to be sweltering in June. Wiping the
moisture from his brow, he held out his hand, concentrating on the glistening
beads trickling down his fingers. God, he hated his life. That is, what little
life he had.
He
closed his eyes, tossing and turning almost instantly. Somehow Jessie didn’t
think he was going to get any additional sleep tonight. Swearing under his
breath, he finally dragged himself out of bed. The sound of the creaking
bedsprings made him cringe. His aunt was a light sleeper. Maybe it was time to
move out of the house. That way he could swear all he wanted to even at the top
of his lungs. Rolling his eyes, he padded toward the bathroom. She was never
going to let him out of her clutches, not that he could live on his own. The
ugly fact had been proven already.
The
moment he flipped on the switch, the glaring light coming from the single naked
bulb gave him a series of shivers. The ugly coloration of the dingy light
highlighted the stained walls, years of nicotine marking nearly every surface.
He loathed living like this, like a bug in a box, ready to be crushed into
oblivion.
If
he could hold down a job Jessie could do so much better with his life. How many
promises had he made to himself? Get a job. Find a girlfriend. Rent a house.
Get the hell away from his crazy aunt. You’re
the crazy one. Her very words to him every time he fell into his mental
bouts of turmoil. Maybe he was insane. Jessie gripped the counter and gazed
into the mirror. The haunted reflection staring back at him was almost as
terrifying as the damning visions filtering into his dreams almost every night.
His life was exactly the same every day – a mindless drill of boredom and
anxiety. And questions. Was his aunt going to be in a horrible mood? Was she
going to hound him about some chore he hadn’t done correctly? Was she going to
remind him from morning until night what a worthless individual he truly was?
He chuckled as a very clear vision of Aunt Beatrice spitting vile as she called
him names appeared in front of him. “Love you auntie.”
He
splashed his face with cool water, refusing to breathe in the wretched
cigarette smell permeating everything in the house, and jerked a towel from the
towel bar. When the one side pulled loose, exposing the multiple layers of
paint and wallpaper the old house had been exposed to, he swore under his
breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was his life, a dimly veiled attempt at
masking hell. Turning off the light, he moved back toward the bed, sitting down
on the mattress carefully. A myriad of thoughts raced in the back of his mind,
mixing with a string of unfocused desires.
I hope you enjoyed...
WHERE TO FIND ME
1 comment:
I agree! Love is love and it was very sad that so many had to hide that love for so long.
debby236 at gmail dot com
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