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Normally, Michael pretty much kept to the 'human' sleep and wakefulness schedule that Gwen and Livia kept. It was not natural to them, but as a human can force themselves into night wakefulness for a job which required night shifts, they forced themselves into day wakefulness. However, he was left to his own devices during the day. Thus it was he found himself napping one day and was later wide awake at midnight. He went out to wander where the 'spirit' led him, and found himself at the park where he and Gwen first had their beginnings. He was fairly used to the jumble of human 'vibrations' caused as they went about their daily lives, and it generally melded into a tonal humming whole. But this midnight, a different tone rose louder above the rest. It had a somber, dark quality, like a melody in a minor key. Michael listened for it and sought to single it out, hoping to follow it to its source. Honing his ear, he turned this way and that, hoping to sense a direction. The somber note did seem stronger towards the south, and he headed down the path to the south. As he came to the southern border of the park, he saw a lone individual sitting on a bench, and from him, he sensed an immense desolation. He recognised it as the same agony of the spirit from which he'd suffered from so, in the past, when he felt all alone and that there was no one else in the world like him. Michael gently approached the bench, and the man's lonliness engulfed him in huge, sweeping movements, like a musical piece in the minor key grown large. But was it a man he was sitting next to? The person possessed some height and bulk, but the gloriously beautiful golden rippling hair cascaded to the middle of the back. ''Ah, a mystery, I love a mystery,'' Michael thought with even greater fascination. Michael merely sat beside the individual quietly, while he figured out what to say. The person, although clearly mortal, possessed an almost vampiric paleness. The ebbing of his despondancy grew, and Michael was gripped with compassion. He gently put a hand on the person's shoulder, and softly said, ''Can I help you?'' ''I wish that you, you, could,''the golden child softly stammered. ''What has you in such distress?'' Michael tenderly asked, trying to establish eye contact. The deep blue eyes brightly flit in the direction of Michael's gray eyes. They were beautiful, but would be more so, if not so filled with sorrow. ''How old are you, to have suffered so much?'' Michael softly queried. The blue eyes filled with water that stubbornly clung to them, and he replied, ''Nearly eighteen. I just graduated from high school last week.'' ''Can you tell me what makes you suffer so?'' Michael stroked the beautiful child's hair. ''Fine spun gold, your hair,'' he softly added. The watery tears left their restraints for the rounded cheeks, and dripped chin-ward. ''I'm a FREAK,'' replied a bitter voice, full of self-loathing. ''Can you not see? My body does not know what to make of itself!'' On closer examination, Michael could see the large, somewhat broad shouldered figure was full of soft womanly curves, to the point of having small, but definate breasts. This fascinated him, and he found it oddly exciting. ''Well, I'm rather pleased with what I see!'' Michael declared, quite truthfully. With that response, the round blue eyed face turned to meet him, and tentatively established eye contact. ''You DO? You ARE?'' ''Oh, yes, I am,'' and Michael moved closer to sit nearer the angelic vision. ''What kind of childhood did you have? Do you have a Mother who loves you?'' Michael grew intrigued to know. ''I had a happy childhood. It wasn't until I was thirteen, and THINGS began to develop . . . I mean, I was strange before, but it was a strangeness no one saw, but when . . . When I was thirteen, then my body really started going crazy on me. School became pure torture. I barely survived it. Fortunately, I did manage to graduate. But I don't know what will become of me in the future . . . Oh, you asked about my mother. Yes, she loves me, she loves me very much. My father not so much. He turned especially distant after I turned thirteen. He wants nothing to do with me . . .'' And more tears flowed. Michael took a general apprisal of the situation. This golden child was a hermaphrodite, obviously, and the father couldn't handle it. ''Well, it really doesn't matter what HE thinks of you? It matters much more what YOU think of you!'' Michael smiled at him, and for the first time, he smiled tentatively back. ''I have to work on that,'' he bashfully admitted. ''So what do you call yourself?'' Michael wondered. ''I have a name, but I don't like it, it doesn't suit me. I HATE it, in fact. Every time I am called that name, it only draws attention to how much that name DOESN'T fit me. But what name would?'' ''You can give yourself a new name,'' Michael suggested. ''Anything but 'ANDREW','' the golden child declared abruptly. ''How about Golden, for to me, you are a golden radiant angel of beauty.'' His eyes widened a little, and replied, ''Golden?'' trying it on for fit. ''I could call you Goldie, for a nickname,'' Michael offered, taking his arm nearest the young one, and putting it around his waist, holding him close. ''Golden, yes I like that. Yes, you can call me that,'' Golden's face softened and some of the sadness left his eyes. He turned his head to face Michael, and get a closer look at the kind man. A surprisingly small man was beside him, and surprisingly pale. But he did not have an air of weakness about him. He had an air which said 'I take control of the situation', and Golden felt safe with him. He reached his somewhat pudgy large hand out to touch Michael's small, but chiseled sharp hand. Michael answered by gripping Golden's hand tightly, and then without thinking about it, kissed Golden's soft, rosy lips. Golden gasped, but did not move away. ''Oh, my sweet, beautiful one, what fun we could have!'' Michael declared. Golden said nothing, but paused to think of 'fun' and what it might mean. ''Fun?'' replied, inquisitively, but with a beautiful shimmer of a smile. ''Like this,'' Michael replied, embracing him fully, and kissing him passionately. ''Ooooohhh, I've never. Well, of course, you can imagine, I've never . . . But I like it, oooooohhh, I like it . . so much,'' Golden answered in a breathy voice. ''Good!'' Michael returned to kissing Golden, and then realized the two of them were not very private. ''Would you like to find a more secluded place?'' Michael asked, and cast his eye about for some bushes that would give cover. ''Yes, do,'' Golden continued in the same breathy voice. They sat down, hidden from passing cars by two rather leafy bushes, full of a small white bloom. Michael returned to kissing Golden with more intensity now. Golden spread his mouth wider each time, melting underneath him. ''Oh, you beautiful, beautiful angel! How worthy you are of love!'' Michael declared passionately. ''I'm so glad you think so,'' Golden's deep blue eyes raised to meet those mysterious gray eyes. He knew nothing about Michael, nothing what so ever, except for his attraction to him. ''It seems to be enough. I don't care who he is. He can't be a mean man. Oh, he wouldn't be a mean man. He would take good care of me, he would. He wouldn't let the bullies get me. Oh, I don't care at ALL who he is . . ,'' and a swoon overcame Golden as he thought this. Just then, he was dimly aware of Michael's mouth opening wide in a smile, ''Ferocious, animal smile . . . Why, he has, yes, he has, he has . . . FANGS! Werewolf? But the moon is full, tonight. No, VAMPIRE? Whatever, I really don't care. He likes me. I'd like him back if he were the most hideous looking creature in all of creation. He LIKES me! He actually LIKES me!'' And with this thought, more tears flowed in abundance from those blue eyes, and his broad, but sloping shoulders heaved in sobs. Michael felt his own heart being grabbed forever in possession by this lovely angel. ''You don't care about MY eccentricities, then, do you?'' Michael forced his mouth wide, against a life long habit of the guarded mouth. ''No! Not in the least!'' Golden eagerly responded. ''Well, then, you shall have me!'' Michael declared, with a finality. He licked Golden's neck teasingly. ''Do you, do you mean to make me as you are?'' Golden replied, a wave of ecstatic thrill rushing through him. ''I'd like to!'' ''You'd like to! It won't make me too weird, will it? But, then, it can't make me any weirder than I am already,'' Golden laughed. ''Do you find ME weird?'' Michael queried, his hands on Golden's shoulders, who was already supine. ''No, not in the least! I like everything about you!'' Golden smiled, his eyes glistening in the moon light. ''He's so strong, he's so confident. He's so handsome, He's SO . . .'' Golden's stream of thought was interrupted by the pain caused by Michael's teeth firmly bearing into his neck. He laid there as still as he could so he wouldn't interrupt Michael, so very determined. He let his thoughts just drift away peacefully. It was wonderful to surrender to this skilled man. ''He knows just what to do!'' Golden thought, as he looked at Michael's black hair, which caught the moonlight, as he went about his work of transformation. Golden was proud of himself for laying just so still. He observed Michael's bobbing head, hair gleaming, and he grew drowsy. ''Drowsy, so very drowsy. I could go to sleep. I could drift off to sleep . . .'' and his thoughts ebbed away. Consciousness returned slowly. Michael's head was still bobbing, but more slowly. Golden continued to not move a muscle, except for one hand that reached around Michael, pulling his torso closer to him. A strange, but delicious mishmash of thoughts and sensations ran through him. He tickled all over, ''No, it's a burn, NO, it's a ticklish burn! Ah, I am afire!'' Every cell of his body was raised in a sort of screaming. And what were they all screaming for? ''More, more, MORE! Please give me more!'' Golden gasped. When Michael at last fell to Golden's side, Golden allowed himself to thrash. He thrashed this way and that, as the furious burning continued. ''I want, I want, you've made me WANT,'' Golden whined fiercely. Beads of sweat grew on his forehead, as he thrashed and grabbed at Michael. But Michael was fast asleep. And the moon shone brighter than it ever had in Golden's entire life. Each leaf of grass was alive, beside him. The wind brought many varied scents. Golden's mind toyed with trying to identify them all. Then sleep found him, as well, though he did continue to thrash from side to side. None of it wakened Michael, though. He'd wake when he was ready.
Go to Chapter Nineteen Meeting Goldie's Mother |