Night Flyer

Chapter 1 The night was full of unrest. Three-pronged lightning bolts flashed across the sky, and sudden crashes of thunder echoed right behind. Violent gusts of wind swept through the streets, rattling trash cans and toppling stop signs while the occasional pedestrian struggled against the darkness in this big city of bright lights, tall skyscrapers, and haters of all kinds. The persistent rumble in the distance, and the pungent smell of rain in the air, made the atmosphere humid and close. It was during this ominous heavenly unrest that Gabe Wesley, a tall, but slim and almost delicate-looking nerd backed away in fear from the three gay bashers that came toward him with blood in their eyes. “Leave me alone,” he said while pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose. He felt nervous and frightened as he stumbled on rocks and debris in the shadowy alleyway. As they advanced on him, his gaze shifted downward, seeing them holding rocks the size of baseballs in their hands. He looked around for someone to help him, but with a storm coming, there was no one on the streets. From the club next door, he could hear the jukebox playing some heavy metal tune with drums, electric guitars, and loud voices that would drown out any cries for help. “Hey, dude, how long you been suckin’ c**k?” asked one of the bullies with a sneer. “How long you been ugly?” Gabe dared to answer back. The mocking look quickly disappeared from the hooligan’s face. “That’s gonna cost you, homo.” “Careful you d-don’t ruin your own life by t-trying to ruin mine.” “Ever give yourself a hand job? Your partner, maybe?” another one called out. “I hear you fruits know how to do that real fine.” “Do you want me to show you how, f-fish face?” The burly dude stood looking at Gabe, his face etched in hate. “I’ll get you for that, you lily-livered sister!” “You know,” Gabe began, feeling braver now, “you got a face that no woman would want, much less a man.” “You b***h!” he yelled, and then looked around at the others. “What the hell are we doin’ just standin’ here? Let’s get him!” Gabe stumbled backward when the guys began to squeeze the rocks and rub them around in their palms, no doubt in anticipation of knocking the homosexuality right out of him. And then, before he knew what was happening, they began heaving them at him. He ducked one way, and then another, but he felt every one. It began with a pounding on his head, a thudding pain on his shoulders, and then one caught him in the face. The big, jagged rock that scraped along his skin was sharp and agonizing. When he tasted blood, he reached up and felt his cheek and saw the dripping blood on his fingers. Just then another big rock, bigger than the others, hit him in the stomach, hard, doubling him over. The rocks kept coming, whipping him, lashing him, cutting him, his blood dripping, mixing with the dirt and debris on the ground as he wilted toward it. He could feel himself getting weaker and weaker as the pounding rocks made bruises, welts, and scars. They cruelly broke his skin, causing his blood to drip freely down his body. In between throws, the men continued to taunt him. “How does that feel, you ass-fuckin’ shithead?” “Hey, queenie, give any head lately?” “If you need a ride, I know a horse you can f**k cheap.” The ugly words that pounded into his ears were almost as painful as the rocks they were hurling at him. He could feel the strength slowly leaving his body and knew if he didn’t get away soon they would kill him. His only alternative was to climb the wooden fence behind him, so amid flying rocks, slurs, and insults, he turned and stumbled slowly toward it. His body ached with each rock that made contact with his body, but with more determination than pain, he jumped up and managed to grab the top and heave himself upward. His arms ached, his back ached, and he could feel himself weakening, but he finally managed to climb to the top and straddle the fence. And then, fate stepped in. From out of a dark sky, a bright light streaked downward, and his body gave a mad jerk. A bolt of lightning had hit him in the back. As the electricity sizzled through him, for an insane moment his whole body glowed, and then suddenly everything went dark. Losing his hold, he fell, his body lying limp and bloody among the rocks. “Hey!” one of the gay bashers said. “Looks like the storm did it for us.” Laughing, they turned to leave, giving each other a high five as they left. As Gabe lay there half awake, he could still hear the storm around him, and he was ushered into a mind-whirling memory of his childhood home. He could see himself sitting on the window sill of his room on a stormy night, listening to the sound of the thunder crash and watching the lightning streak across the sky. He would close his eyes and feel the wind rush along his arms and face, almost like a caress. He remembered the smell of the moisture, so fresh and cool. If he spread his arms, and really imagined it, he could feel himself lifting into the dark sky like a superhero, thunder trembling his body and lightning missing him by mere inches. That was a long time ago, and today it seemed that the drama in the sky was no longer his friend. Maybe it was because his innocence had gone. He wasn’t a child sitting on his window sill anymore, but a twenty-three-year-old man lying on the hard ground. He tried to get up, but because the pain was sharp and aching, he fell back, getting only as far as the crude, splintery fence that he leaned against. While he sat there, he looked up at the sky overhead, still hearing the loud thunder-crashes, and remembering the words his mother used to tell him on nights such as this. It’s God throwing a bowling ball across the skies and making a strike. He didn’t really believe it, of course, but the thought always soothed him. It was sad to know that as he grew into manhood, all the fairytales and pie-in-the-sky things he’d heard all his childhood years were nothing but lies, told to all children to make them feel safe and secure in this imperfect world. When the ugly truth finally dawned upon him, he learned he was gay and was growing up in a world where someone like him wasn’t tolerated. In a world where even his mother’s loving words no longer had the power to soothe him. Now, instead of his mother’s soft smile, he saw an angry sky, and big rocks lying all around him meant to hurt, even kill. So, with tears glittering on his cheeks, and the loud thunder-crashes still overhead, he knew that somewhere deep inside him there was still enough of that little boy left to make just one more wish. If only I had wings—to escape this hell.