Love, Eternal

Love, Eternal By Wayne Mansfield Evan was fond of walking the streets at night. He'd never felt part of the daytime world; it was confusing, chaotic, and violent. Nor did he understand people, their selfishness and the cruel, thoughtless things they did. The night offered him solitude. The darkness was a veil which protected him from life. With the stars overhead to protect him and the moon to guide him he could walk forever, and some nights he did. Yet it didn’t matter where he wandered he always seemed to end up at The Lane. The Lane was a narrow stretch of bitumen bordered on one side by the high, ivy-covered walls of the well-to-do who lived in the great houses on the other side, and on the other by a row of Morton Bay Fig trees, whose tentacle-like roots looked almost alive in the half-light of the street lamps filtering down through the sprawling canopy. Hidden amongst these great monsters, in the shadows, were men whose lustful desires had drawn them there. At the slightest sound a dozen heads would peer around the great trunks, inspecting, assessing, and only if the approaching stranger was sexually appealing would anyone show themselves. Yet despite having walked this path many times, Evan rarely partook of the flesh on offer. One night, as spring teetered on the edge of summer, Evan found himself at a loose end. Almost automatically he grabbed his keys and walked into the night. Dressed only in a simple cotton T-shirt and denim jeans he went down the narrow path that divided his front lawn exactly in half and out to the footpath. His eyes stayed on his feet and on the cracked slabs of the pavement. On both sides of him there were houses shrouded in darkness, or with living rooms illuminated by the flickering blue light of a television. A dog barked at him through the posts of a picket fence. He jumped. His heart started pounding. He frowned at the dog and continued walking. For an hour he wove his way through the streets of Graceville. These were streets he knew well for he had travelled them many times, so his eyes remained fixed on his feet, his mind a million miles away. A late night jogger was almost upon him before he realised he was no longer alone. The jogger smiled at him and by the light of a street lamp Evan saw the man’s eyes drop to his crotch. He looked over his shoulder as the jogger passed and saw the lean, muscular athlete look back at him. He felt something stir between his legs. His mind raced with the possibilities of the situation though he continued walking. Eventually, he found himself at The Lane. His muscles tensed slightly as he turned into the narrow road, spotted with squashed figs. His pace slowed to a stroll as his eyes searched the shadows for signs of life. Almost immediately someone stepped from the shadows, c**k in hand and a seductive smile gracing his lightly tanned face. Evan averted his eyes and kept walking, though his curiosity soon had him surveying the shadows again. He heard more than he saw. Groans of ecstasy and low, conspiratorial whispers wafted on the gentle breezes that snaked around him. A man walked out from behind a tree doing his trousers up. When he saw Evan he looked startled, panicked, and immediately hurried away in the opposite direction. Evan smiled. Married. A second man appeared, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. He smiled at Evan and Evan smiled back. “Not tonight,” said Evan. With the end of The Lane in sight Evan relaxed as the sense of expectation and danger ebbed. Once he stepped from The Lane into Forbes Avenue he’d become just another guy out for a midnight stroll and not a faggot doing the beat; fair game for the police and the gay bashers who often visited the area. However, as he passed the last great fig tree on The Lane he noticed a man leaning against its trunk, his body cloaked in darkness. Only his face was visible. And his eyes—cold and grey and unblinking. Evan slowed his pace. Suddenly his muscles tensed again. He tried to look away but his attention was made prisoner by the beauty and fierceness of the stranger’s eyes. They seemed to shine like cats eyes. Perhaps a trick of the light. He shivered, the action shaking him to his senses. He was being rude. Staring. He tore his gaze from the stranger and hurried into Forbes Avenue. By the time he arrived at his front door he was panting. He didn’t go out the following night.