Copyright 2006 Peter Conrad -- Peter_Co@web.de
Hi, it's me again, the author of "Never saw a miracle" and "A new Beginning", both to find in the gay highschool section. After a break with translating my german stories into english for a while I started again, and here is one of my really short short stories g.
BTW, "A new Beginning" is now available in print, if you want take a look at it here:
*** Danny is your typical teenager: 17 years old, always fighting the hurdles of life like boring school, an always worried mother, non existing love life. And now he'll even get a step father and brother! To top it all Danny has a little secret, a secret which isn't so secret anymore: he's gay and desperately searching for his Mr. Right.
http://www.lulu.com/content/474356
Cover picture:
http://www.lulu.com/author/display_thumbnail.php?fCID=474356&fSize=zoom_ ***
But now to the new story!
I'm dead, and that's how it happened:
When I woke up today I knew it: THIS was the day! Decision day! Today I would take the plunge. No matter what the consequences would be. I didn't care about anything anymore. I just had to do it -- and I had to do it now!
What did I have to do? Oh. I guess I should explain my situation to give you a better understanding of my sudden death. To start with the beginning: I fell in love! Okay, that wasn't such a sudden development, more like a for years always growing crush.
Now love usually isn't a reason to give up your mortal existence, but for me the omens were not really good. You see, I'm a guy. And I fell in love with: a guy! HELP! I'm gay! Horrible, isn't it? That was exactly my reaction some five years ago when this realization hit me.
Now the target of my big crush carries this so wonderful melodic and romantic sounding name Jerome. And not only the name is french, the godly creature carrying it, too. Jerome came to our highschool in our sophomore year, and the stupid idiot I am had nothing better to do than falling for him head over heals! Just great, isn't it?
It all started quite harmless, I felt drawn towards him in a way I couldn't really understand at this age. I'd never thought at this point that this feeling was an expression of my just starting to creep around homosexuality! It took me quite a while to realize the complete significance of my feelings. When I finally reached this point I was at the toilet for hours! Nervous stomach, you know? Well, at least this gave me the time to think about this madness boiling in me. Three rolls of toilet paper and half a lake of water later I had reasoned everything and completed my inner coming out.
Now everything was okay you think? Ha! Think again. Okay, I accepted being gay and in love with an extremely cute french boy -- but that was it. This extremely cute french boy was totally out of my reach, and to top it all every girl from 10 miles around was over him like a fly over a freshly fallen horse dropping. Oh my god. Did I really just compare Jerome with horse droppings? Oh no! Pardon, Jerome!
So I only could love him from afar, adore him, saving his image in my brain for later usage. If you get my drift. But, even worse! Not only from afar but directly beside me, too! We became good friends over the years, this being both blessing and agony for me. Always being near him, and still he was so totally out of reach. The years at school were bad enough, but now we both did our mandatory civil service in the same hospital, even on the same floor! What a torture!
Of course I never had the courage to confess my feelings to him. Not even a little bit. Whoever knows me also knows, that my second name starts with a "c" and ends with a "d". (No wonder that the number of people knowing about me being gay could be counted with one finger of one hand -- myself included!) I also didn't have the smallest clue how Jerome was thinking about gays. If I was a little bit smarter I could have included the topic unsuspiciously into our conversations, but I never claimed to be a second Einstein. And it would have been to dangerous anyways, Jerome is into kickboxing and sometimes a little quick-tempered.
So while I was suffering from unreturned love, while I almost exploded from this suffering, my friend Jerome lived a happy day to day live, was flirting with the girls and had not the foggiest idea about my agony. But over the last three or four weeks I realized more and more, that I couldn't go on like this anymore. Another only vegetated month I wouldn't survive -- so I guess I could just take the risk and tell Jerome about my feelings for him. Better killed by him than dying slowly by a broken heart.
And that's why I decided to confess, to make a clean sweep. The first half of last night I spent memorizing my confession word for word -- the second half belonged to a colourful mix of nightmares, all of them revolving around every possible reaction from Jerome to my confession. And all of them ending with my to early departure to the eternal hunting grounds.
So this morning I put on my best clothes, paying special attention to clean boxers. I mean, who wants to find himself on the pathology table wearing streched out and dirty underwear! Especially being gay. You have to look out for your good image.
We made a shopping date in the city, I thought that such a public place with lots of people around us would slightly raise my chances of survival. Then, when I noticed him being as cute as ever, I almost lost my courage, resigning to my usual secret lusting after him. But then, in a never before felt attack of courage (or despair?) I decided to go through with my plans.
Of course this still took me much longer than planned, I stuttered and started to hem and haw, until Jerome had it with me and asked bluntly what was wrong with me. If I wanted to tell him something I just should do so. And so I did. In the middle of the street.
And that's what I got for it. It's only a few hours later, and I'm dead.
By the way, directly beside me is Jerome, and he's dead, too.
As the french say: Le petit mort -- the small death.
What a beautiful expression for the best orgasm of my life!
EXPLANATION FROM THE AUTHOR
Because it seems that a few readers don't get the end correctly: NOBODY DIED! "Le petit mort -- the small death" only is a synonym used by the french for orgasm.