Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Flash fiction by Kealan Moore

Limp ragged weather fell onto an October night, a heaviness hung in the air, the cold almost violent. Henry sat waiting on a park bench next to ivy towers that crawled covering the outer walls of the medieval church that was now a gymnasium. Beat box music escaped from an open side door, squeaks of Nike runners on waxed hardwood echoed, the rhythm of skipping ropes matched the almost lyrical chanting of a boxing coach. Henry searched for a box of cigarettes in his pocket, the damp freezing fog had embalmed his fingers into a claw like tool that didn't work quiet right.

He lifted a cigarette to his mouth, placed it between his violet lips before raising his hood as heavy raindrops began to fall into his dark hair and onto his light brown skin. His fingers hurt as he sparked the lighter: a flame danced amber-yellow, and red. He could feel his socks wet in his shoes when he scrunched his toes and began to realise that the person he was supposed to meet wasn't turning up, he had been stood-up to the applause of a dribbling basket ball and the shouts of young men and woman trying for a slam dunk.
Henry stood up and began walking through a wooded pathway towards the city. With each step his feet grew wetter as the night drew a veil of cold dampness around him. He was glad he had been stood-up, he thought that he would not get used again for sex and spend the rest of the month beating himself up because his heart broke a little more with each encounter.

He zipped his jacket to the neck tucking a scarf tightly around his face like a ninja. The life he had been living for just over a year was still alien, something did not fit in with him. He knew he was gay but the psychology of the community did not fit his, he was different. The muddy pathway came to an end and Henry stepped out onto the side-walk and turned in the direction of the city. Cars passed in slow motion as the green roof of the Cathedral lifted up in the distance like a mountain in a computer game from the nineteen-eighties.
Henry opened the door to a small, dark, cold, quiet, safe house. A moment later his six year old ginger and white Persian cat appeared from the sitting room and looked at Henry with his large amber owl like eyes and opened his small mouth to speak, 'Meow meow.' Starshine ran for the kitchen at the end of the hallway, 'Meow meow,' his regal cat-speak filled the cold kitchen. 'Hang on Starshine,' Henry peeled his school bag and rain jacket off before picking Starshine up and each warmed one another. Starshine wriggled to the ground. Henry filled the food bowl with small expensive pellets he had bought from the Veterinary store down town and he filled the water bowl with water he has specially boiled for Starshine. After a little food they both sat in the cold sitting room and watched a film together.

Kealan Moore currently has five gay themed books available on kindle.  For more of his work see his blog boy and his cat 

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