Death By Violin

YAY for old stuff. :) Hopefully by putting up stuff instead of writing I'll at least feel like I did something.

So - the story here. Grant is one of my first characters, one of my best friends made up the story with him, his friend Regina and her twin brother Taylor. It was awesome. We did so many LRPGs with these guys.... times were good. :)

Anyway - Grant's a bit screwed up - and one day while really feeling in character, I wrote this. ENJOY!


“What was my childhood like? Was I a happy kid? Are you nuts? What the Hell do you think?

“My father was a doctor, a very important doctor. Hell, he just about owned fucking Saint Kristen’s Hospital; and made a shitload of money doing so. But ah! The catch. He was never, ever home. Sure he’d drop by to eat, sometimes, perhaps sleep or relax, but he was always on call and St. Kristen’s was always conveniently short-staffed. He, when he was home, was damned strict, and nothing, not even my perfect sister, was good enough for him. He’d storm in, all decked out like he’d been ‘at the office,’ and yell and brawl until my mother brought him his dinner.

“Oh, my poor mother. That poor, sweet woman. I sometimes blame my father for everything that happened to her, but my sister and I did our share. My mother always seemed to be cleaning, always seemed to be doing things for the three of us, and did she ever see thanks? Of course not. My dad was too proud, I was too stupid, and Kelly was never around. I think that’s probably my biggest regret, that I never really appreciated her until now. We all drove her crazy, you know, we did it: made her feel so horrible that a bullet to the head was the only way to feel better.

“We were ok on the outside, no-one really knew anything about us. Kelly was a straight A student, Class President from freshman to senior year, and captain of the girl’s soccer team. She was pretty, popular, perfect… or at least that’s what she wanted you to think. She had a deep hatred for our father, she thought mom was insane, and she told everyone she was adopted just so they wouldn’t know we were related.

“What about me, you ask, what was so bad about me? Well, I was a freakin’ fairy for starters. They only violinist in our middle and high school bands, a bonafide thespian, getting by with the skin of my teeth. All the teachers knew who I was, and it got so bad that they didn’t even flinch, as I’d walk into class with only my violin case.

“So, yeah, I was horribly unpopular in school. In fact, besides three of my fondest memories, all of my school years seem to run together.

“The memories? What are they?

“Well the first took place in the spring of my freshman year. We did ‘Romeo and Juliet, and guess who Romeo was? Well, Timothy Ginns, but guess who played Mercutio? Me, Grant. It was fabulous. I loved every minute of it, and cried for a week when it closed.

“The second memory was when I finally came to terms with the fact that I was gay. You see, I’d always hung out with my girlfriend’s friends, ‘cause they had all the good ideas! Who wants to watch football when the ballet’s in town? Why go cruisin’ in Timothy’s new cherry red convertible, when there’s a good sale at the mall? But I just figured it was because I was an actor/musician, despite my father’s taunts. Then, oh then, Mr.Withical decided to do “Chicago.” I landed the role of Amos, which was what I’d wanted, and I was happy… up until I got to see the girls do the Cell Block Tango. Oh my God. There’s not way to describe to you the overwhelming jealousy I felt. It didn’t matter that I was ‘absolutely adorable’ in ‘Mr.Selaphane:” I wanted to do that! The choreography was dirty, slutty, all sorts of provocative. Oh, how I wanted to put on those outfits and get up there with them. So what’d I do? I learned the choreography better than Velma herself. Pretty obvious, nay? But, there you have it.. Viola.. gay.

“Well, you must be saying to yourself, ‘That’s such a grand memory! What could the third possibly be?’ My solo in the final band concert of my senior year. It was a song I wrote myself, I didn’t even ask to play it. Ms. Yell, our band teacher, walked in on me one day while I was playing it. I’d taken refuge in the empty theater from the jocks at lunch, and was just standing, playing my heart out, when she walked in. She let me finish before she made her presence known, and we had one of the best conversations in my life: right there on center stage. She told me I was the best violinist she had ever seen, and she was being completely sincere. She asked me all sorts of weird, personal questions, and then asked me if I’d play the solo. It took me forever to decide, but she finally talked me into it. That night, after ‘Moonlight Senada,’ by the guitar class, it was my turn. The lights when down, my spot came up, and I took center stage. Talking to Timothy later on he’d said there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, and for those brief moments I felt good about myself. Really good, you know?

“Graduation was horrid, really. My mother had killed herself in January, and my father, after going to Kelly’s graduation, figured his job was done. So, I stood outside like an idiot as all my friends went off to celebrate with their families. I didn’t go home, in fact, I wouldn’t ever go back home. Not even two years later for my dad’s funeral. You know what he said to me the night before? Well no, obviously you don’t, but he told me I’d grow up a miserable faggot. Get AIDS, rape some poor schoolboy, and hang myself by my violin strings. Oh, how I loved my father.

“Anyway, continuing with my sob story, I walked around downtown, broke and with no place to go. I had a scholarship to the best school for music in the state, but I really couldn’t go down there ‘till August. So what’d I do? Why, what any self-hating gay man would: got hired as a bartender/waiter/performer at a local gay bar, and worked practically 24-7.

“Then college started. Oh boy, college. It wasn’t nearly as bad as my previous school years, and I made myself four very good friends: Amma, Jack, Leslie, and Smith. Amma was a tall, pale, beautiful goth who could play drums like nobody’s business. Jack, big, burly and generally mistaken for a football player, was an amazing singer, but the biggest wimp I’ve ever known. Leslie was commonly referred to as a ‘hot geek’, and she was just that. She eventually started a clothing line, appropriately named ‘Sexy Intellect Inc.’ Then there was Smith, my first official boyfriend. He was tall, black, and had the most amazing hair I’ve ever seen. Even his goatee was a sight. He was our techie, the guy who made it all happen, our unsung backstage hero, not to mention four years older than all of us, and the owner of a small theater. Hmm, thinking back on it, it’s a wonder we lasted as long as we did. See, Smith was the scary silent type who just appears out of nowhere, seduces you, gives you the best damned fuck of your life, then sinks back into his shadows. We hardly ever saw each other, and when we did it was simply to ‘shag.’ I’m a classic ‘fag’ and couldn’t take it. I wanted someone to talk to, to cuddle with, and I didn’t really love Smith, I just wanted him. So after two years I finally called it quits.

“I still see him. He’s still a good friend. Still a good fuck.

“Then, in my junior year, came Wren. Wren was tall, and built like a well-seasoned dancer. Oh, the chest on that man. But Wren had a secret: he was the king of kinky! Handcuffs, leather, blindfolds, cloth, feathers, wax, role-play, lingerie, you name it, we did it. I enjoyed some of it, namely the cloth restraints and blindfolds, but the whips, and his constant nagging for group sex was just too much.

“Another year gone.

“I soon grew to know just about everyone there was to know in theater and music, and joined up with one or two symphonies: but something just wasn’t right. I spent the next few years traveling the phone sex lines, the dirty chatrooms and IM lists, and wide array of gay bars, doing anyone and everyone who I thought was attractive.

“Then, I met the man who love me, hurt me, hate me, want me: Samuel.

“Samuel was an attractive, rich, well-to-do lawyer/Gay Right’s Activist. Our relationship was completely love/hate. We’d fight; break up, call, and make-up. Samuel was, and still is, completely devoted to his work, and it drove me crazy. It terrified me, I didn’t want to end up like my mother: Home alone and unappreciated. Then you know what the bastard did?! The fucking ass cheated on me! And if that wasn’t enough, showed up for days later to apologize, and to tell me we had HIV! Oh! That bastard! But…. But he looked so crestfallen, so what did I do? I forgave the son of a bitch, and we were ok for another couple of months.

“Then, the beginning of last year, he accepted a job in another state, and asked me to move with him. Now, I had just been accepted into a fantastic symphony run by non-other than my old lover Smith himself. Damnit… Samuel knew how I felt about my music.. that symphony was the best thing that ever happened to me. When I told Samuel that, and that I wouldn’t be moving with him, he was livid. He called me a whore, broke up with me, and took off.

“So.. now here I am… living for my music, suffering through HIV, traveling the phone sex lines, the dirty chatrooms and IM lists….. and aching. Aching all over. I’m just waiting for the AIDS, waiting for my schoolboy.

“You’ve been so supportive… thanks for listening. I’ve got to go, concert to get to.” Grant sighed, and gave his fish a wave before turning off the lights, and closing the door quietly behind him.