In article <enebb65og9itip0aql5kk8ti21nfsc6hg8@4ax.com>, HMS Victor
Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com> wrote:
> Act 5, Scene 3
>
> The Garden of Eden
> Saturday, April 17th, 10:00 am.
>
> Having gotten dressed and eaten breakfast, Nigel and Evan dash outside
> in high spirits, intending to go directly to the Evan's home on the
> corner. They skip down Tennyson Avenue side by side, swinging Nigel's
> Pooh between them. Nigel chants his magical incantation and Evan
> chants his more scandalous one, the clapping and slapping of their
> tennis shoes keeping time. Nigel abruptly stops with an irritated
> expression.
>
> "Evan," Nigel complained, "I keep saying 'poopy' instead of 'dirty.'
> You're making me get it all wrong."
>
> At which juncture Evan, of course, was compelled to repeat the
> offending word several times, and laugh.
>
> "Well, I'm not going to chant anymore, then," Nigel said.
>
> "Alright, "Evan said, "We'll take turns."
>
> A bold idea struck Nigel.
>
> "What about an adventure?" he suggested brightly, "Let's go 'round to
> your house the long way, down to Dean Street, then up Mooreland and
> around."
>
> Evan wasn't enthusiastic.
>
> "There's just more houses like ours there, and I think some big boys
> live on that street." he said a little fearfully. "I'm going home the
> short way."
>
> "Alright," Nigel said, determined to have an adventure that Saturday,
> despite a reluctant friend. "I'll come to your house when Pooh and I
> are done exploring."
>
> So Nigel left Evan, who turned about and walked up Tennyson. Nigel,
> with Pooh flopping along, trotted down Tennyson for what seemed quite
> a time, until coming to Dean Street. He turned left. He walked one
> block, which seemed a kilometre to him, to Mooreland, where he took
> another right. He'd been there before, he believed, for it all looked
> very familiar. Of course, the town houses all looked similar and,
> therefore, familiar.
>
> Suddenly, the boy saw something very familiar but not at all welcomed.
> There was a large boy, with several other companions, coming down
> Mooreland towards him. Nigel pressed Pooh to his heart with both
> arms.
>
> It was Dirk, the boy who had taken his Pooh watch.
>
> Dirk saw Nigel and, even with his clothes on, recognised him right
> off.
>
> "Hey, you l'il homo!" the big boy yelled in such a way as to make his
> violent intent completely obvious.
>
> Nigel took off like a race car, his feet pounding just as fast as he
> could make them, with Dirk and his friends in hot pursuit.
>
> "I'll ge' you!" Dirk threatened. "You l'il shit."
>
> But he couldn't, and neither could any of his friends. Nigel was
> quick, even carrying Pooh, and jetted across the street and past the
> next corner. He ran and ran and ran, desperately puffing out his
> incantation between breaths.
>
> "Dirty ... monkey's ... poopy ... Oh! Bother!"
>
> And he had to clap his thigh with one hand since he was using the
> other to hold Pooh during their wild escape. Finally, he slowed just
> enough to safely look back. To his intense relief, Dirk was nowhere
> to be seen. The incantation had worked again, even if he'd said a
> wrong word here and there.
>
> The trouble was that Nigel was also nowhere. Well, certainly he was
> somewhere, but he had no particular idea where. He was on street of
> town houses, but the numbers and the doors were all strange, and he
> became very concerned. He was lost!
>
> So Nigel timidly crept along the pavement until he came to a street
> sign. It said, 'Wickham Avenue.' That was something recognisable, at
> any rate, and he walked a little more confidently, though not having a
> clue as to where he was going. Then he halted.
>
> Down the row a man had come out of his home, dressed in gray shorts
> and a green tee shirt, to fetch a lawn rake. It was Harry Campbell,
> the grounds man at St. Peter's! Nigel burst into a sprint and called
> his name with all breath he could spare.
>
> "HARRY!"
>
> But Harry hadn't heard. By the time Nigel reached the home, he'd
> gone inside. The front door was wide open, so Nigel knocked quite as
> ferociously as he could, but no one came. Then, in spite of the fact
> he could be in trouble, he stepped into the foyer and padded across
> the parlour toward the kitchen. No sign of life anywhere.
>
> "Perhaps he's had a stroke, Pooh," Nigel rationalised, "We'd better go
> see."
>
> The house was full of so many things. Pictures and plaques and a
> wicket and cricket bat and ball on the mantle, and papers and
> magazines scattered on the furniture, and on the floor. There was a
> plate here, a dirty fork there, an empty bottle of stout, an old
> paraffin lamp, and then Nigel came across a dramatic discovery.
>
> There, on an enormous padded chair, was all that remained of poor
> Harry ... a pile of clothes: a green tee shirt, a pair of old gray
> shorts with big pockets, and a pair of plaid underpants ...boxers ...
> baggy ones like Nigel's father wore.
>
> "I'll bet he's in the bath ..." Nigel said, matter-of-factly, to Pooh,
> and made for the foot of the stairs. At that moment he heard Harry's
> voice, not upstairs, but in the garden. So he turned about and
> hurried through the kitchen, mentally preparing his alibi about the
> stroke and all.
>
> The back door was wide open, as well. As Nigel came onto the porch,
> he no longer heard Harry, but the abrupt yapping of a terrier. The
> small dog rushed up, snarling at the boy's ankles. Nigel danced back,
> depending on Pooh for protection.
>
> "Ralphy! Is it that bloody cat again?" came the grounds man's voice,
> "Ralphy! Sod it all!"
>
> The terrier immediately streaked off and Nigel hid behind a patio
> chair. Out of the garden emerged Harry Campbell and his dog. The
> very first thought that occurred to Nigel, peeking through the chair
> back, was that Harry had managed to forget his own incantation. Other
> than holding a lawn rake, he was completely naked.
>
> Nigel had cleverly concealed himself behind the patio chair, but it
> was Pooh's hindquarters that betrayed him.
>
> "Oh, dear ..." Harry said, suddenly feeling painfully awkward, "Hello,
> Pooh! Who is there with you?"
>
> Nigel stood up.
>
> "Nigel, my boy!" Harry exclaimed, both baffled and relieved, "What the
> bugger ... I mean, what are you doing here, lad?"
>
> "I'm lost," Nigel replied, hugging Pooh, "And I saw you and I didn't
> know where to go ... and I knocked and knocked and no one came so I
> went in. Are you angry with me?"
>
> "Not at all!" the grounds man said, setting his rake aside. "I see
> you've met Ralphy."
>
> "He's very brave," the small boy said.
>
> "Yes," Harry admitted, "He's quite protective, particularly back here
> in the garden, and particularly when I'm ... well ... in this state."
>
> "You look very comfortable." Nigel observed.
>
> "Yes, I am." Harry laughed, "Say! What do you say to lemonade? You
> wait here. I'll be right back. Don't worry," he reassured, "Ralphy
> won't bite. He knows we're friends, now."
>
> And the grounds man disappeared into the house. He shortly returned
> with two crystalline glasses of pink lemonade, tinkling with ice...
> and wearing his pair of plaid boxers.
>
> "Here you are, son ..." He extended a glass to Nigel, but drew back a
> bit in surprise.
>
> "Well!" Harry observed brightly, "I see you've gotten comfy."
>
> "Is it alright? I thought it was your garden rule," Nigel replied,
> "No one allowed in the garden with clothes on."
>
> Harry gave a laugh.
>
> "Yes!" He confessed. "Yes, it is!"
>
> "It's a nice rule, "Nigel said, and took a sip of lemonade.
>
> Harry gazed down momentarily at Nigel, and then he peeled off his
> under pants.
>
> "Bring your lemonade and Pooh," the grounds man said, "And I'll show
> you my own garden."
>
> Initially, the garden wasn't much to look at, for the part nearest the
> house was a clutter, not unlike the house itself. Pots and old
> boards, a broken trellis, a hand cart, trowels and watering cans and
> hoses piled up to make a nearly impenetrable barrier. But once Harry
> placed a hand gently on Nigel's back and guided him through an arbour,
> the boy was captivated.
>
> Beyond the arbour was a secret world, such jungle that one might
> expect macaw monkeys swinging through the trees. There was a verdant
> lawn winding in and out of alder and pussy willow, plum and silver
> birch, all surrounded by cascades of ivy and early spring flowers:
> foxglove and lilies, honeysuckle, peonies and delphiniums. Right in
> front of the boy was a small cedar gazebo, and to his right a
> shimmering pond.
>
> "Go look at the pond," Harry urged.
>
> Nigel followed the stone path up to the pond. There was a little
> waterfall burbling out and, looking down into the water, the boy
> gasped.
>
> "Pollywogs!"
>
> It was a boy's paradise, most assuredly.
>
> "Is this the Garden of Eden?" Nigel breathed in wonderment.
>
> "No," Harry joked, "You can eat off any tree you want here, and I
> won't throw you out!"
>
> Nigel instinctively reached up to pluck a bunch of red berries. The
> grounds man grabbed his hand.
>
> "No, Nigel." He warned, "That's holly. It'll make you dreadfully ill
> and you'll have to go to hospital."
>
> "Oh," the little boy replied, giving the berries a disapproving frown,
> and then sat at the edge of the fountain.
>
> "So, what do you think?" Harry asked, sitting beside the boy. "Do you
> like it?"
>
> "Oh, yes!" Nigel breathed. "You can be comfortable and pick flowers or
> climb a tree like a naked Indian and not have anyone bother you, like
> Mrs. Whitby."
>
> "You're absolutely right," the gardener laughed. "It's freedom. Here,
> I'm as free as a monkey."
>
> "You're not a monkey."Nigel giggled in delight. "You're Harry ... and
> you are hairy! Especially down there and on your back and bottom ..."
>
> Nigel was so tickled at his cleverness that his eyes got wide and he
> clapped a hand over his mouth before he got overly-giggly, then he
> added, "So it's alright to be starkers?"
>
> "Of course it's alright!" Harry exclaimed, "You just can't do it any
> place at all. People get all bothered, you see, without any good
> reason, really, and cause trouble. That's why it's good to have a
> private garden."
>
> The small boy thought for a bit.
>
> "You're not a grown up person at all," Nigel concluded solemnly and
> smiled, "You're a boy like me. You're just extra big."
>
> Harry quickly glanced away, for the first time truly embarrassed.
>
> Concerned, Nigel scooted right next to him, skin touching skin, and
> took the man's huge hand in his small one.
>
> "I'm sorry," Nigel apologised, "I didn't mean to make you sad."
>
> "No worries," the gardener said, distracted, "... it's a good sad ..."
>
> "Like when you wiggle a loose tooth?"
>
> Harry looked back, smiled and gently cupped Nigel's hand between both
> of his.
>
> "Precisely!"
>
> "Can I ask you a question?"
>
> "Certainly," the gardener replied, clearing his throat, "Anything."
>
> "Could you come to my house for a sleep-over?" Nigel suggested, "We
> could play a game. I've got a cat ... "
>
> Harry softly petted the back of Nigel's head.
>
> "I'd love to, but I don't think it's a very good idea."
>
> Disappointed, Nigel sat for awhile, sipping lemonade and listening to
> the singing of the fountain and the birds. Then, without comment, he
> set Pooh and his glass aside, climbed up and sat in Harry's lap,
> facing him. He scruitinised the man's chest.
>
> "You're like a black sheep," Nigel observed in a mischievous tone, and
> then wiggled his small fingers into the man's mat of chest hair,
> investigating the coarse and kinky quality. The boy's affectionate
> exploration was innocent, but for Harry it was at once delightfully
> sensual and alarmingly erotic. Fascinated by the texture, Nigel laid
> a cheek against the man's woolly chest.
>
> "Oh!" the boy exclaimed, "You're heart is beating like Indian drums!"
>
> "Yes, it is, isn't it?" The gardener managed to say, caressing Nigel's
> back with a hand, "Like excited drums."
>
>
> With his cheek nestling in over Harry's thundering heart, Nigel again
> combed his fingers through the man's chest hair and ran them down over
> his hirsute stomach. A wave of longing abruptly swept over Harry,
> cascading down through his heart and into his abdomen. A feverish
> stirring and swelling in his groin slowly began to fill the space
> between his tummy and Nigel's, then reaching its apex, pulsed intently
> against the boy's soft warmth and brushing against the boy's delicate
> hand.
>
> "No, Nigel," Harry intended to say, trying to force himself to lift
> the boy off, but he could only manage to whisper, "Oh, Nigel ..."
>
> Just for a moment, Nigel's curious fingers instinctively closed over
> the new object. Suddenly he drew his hand back, leaned far back and
> glanced down in wonderment and surprise.
>
>
> At last, the boy found his voice.
>
> "Look. I've got one, too." Nigel noted, smiling almost nonchalantly,
> then demonstrated by arching back and poking Harry's navel with it a
> few times.
>
> The man could only nod.
>
> "But mine's small!" Nigel complained, reaching down gently to make a
> closer comparison, "It's like a little peg."
>
> Harry gave a little chuckle. "It's a very nice one, just the way it is
> ..."
>
> "You're shaky," Nigel observed, putting his hands on Harry's heaving
> chest. "Are you cold?"
>
> "No," the man stammered. "It's just that ... well ... damn it all.
> You're a wonderful boy and I'm afraid I've become quite fond of you.
> Do you mind very much?"
>
> Without answering, Nigel rose up on his knees. He laid his cheek
> against Harry's stubbly one and wrapped his arms around the man's
> sun-tanned neck. Then he gave him an affectionate hug that nearly
> brought Harry to tears. In pressing against Nigel's comforting warmth
> and hearing the lad's heart pattering away like a rabbit's, inhaling
> the boy's moist breath and feeling the tickle of the boy's eyelashes
> brushing his cheeks, in breathing the intimate scents of a small boy's
> embrace; he was sent reeling back in remembrance of the joys he'd
> shared, and then lost, so many years ago at Leeds.
>
> Nigel sat back with an innocent smile and the spell was broken.
>
> "Don't be sad, Harry," the boy comforted, "Can I come back to your
> garden sometime?"
>
> Harry enveloped the boy in his two strong arms and gave him a long,
> fervent cuddle.
>
> "Why, of course you can." Harry promised, "Any time you feel
> uncomfortable."
>
> HMSVV2010
A Secret Garden, with the (Golden) "Garden Rule"! I love it.
I like this a lot too:
"The trouble was that Nigel was also nowhere. Well, certainly he was
somewhere, but he had no particular idea where."
I wish I could write like that.
The last part of this scene is wonderfully described and very romantic.
I never thought of eyelash tickling.
I wonder what you will write next?
--
Grant
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