This is my third installment to my first piece here. I am a rather young writer but i was encuouraged by my teachers and freinds to write a story based on my poetry. This story is influenced by a true story. Please do not use this work anywhere else without asking me first. Thanks a bunch and enjoy!
Note: If you are looking for a story fille with sexual encounters, this story is not for you. It does however have a gay theme and hold many homosexual notions and influences.
The Momentum of Opportunity
Chapter Three
After a half hour of walking they arrived at the motel. It has just started to rain and the water begins to trickle on the steel garbage cans that lined the street. The sounds of the drops created a miniature symphony of beats that danced in his head. The motel appears to be a small brick building painted in white with spots of dark red where the paint have chipped off over the years. It looked more like an apartment rather than a running motel with simply one large building surrounded by a metal fence. On top of the building is a large neon sign that read; "Le Motel de Passion." The name almost seems to mock him as the notion of passion would probably be the least of his concerns. In an attempt to make the name credible, directly across the street was a pornography shop. It too was laden with numerous neon signs hoping to attract the various night wanderers, proving to them that this watering hole is far from a mirage. The shop stands as an oasis for the lost souls of the city and serving up their nightly doses of "passion" would simply be an act of a Good Samaritan.
"This is not the best place but we only need to manage one night here." His mother opens the metal gate and quickly heads to the door as the rain began to come down harder. As they entered the reception room, an old man was slumped over a book. His snoring almost shook the desk as the empty cups of coffee surrounded his head.
"Monsieur...monsieur...monsieur s'il vous plait!" The agitation in his mother's voice made him nervous but it seemed to have gotten the man's attention.
"What is this? Who are you?" Still dazed from sleep he searched for answers on his desk before looking up to see the two people in front of him.
"Oh yes, yes, what can I do for you?" The old man pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, closed the book and placed it to his side. Ocean stole a glimpse of the title, "Finding Yourself through the Eyes of God." He wondered if he too was lost and if he needed to find himself as well. He thought to himself that if he was lost then he'd certainly know it and that it was probably best to let god save all his energy on those who are lost, or at least believed they were. On the other side of the desk however was a pornographic magazine, with the front page folded back. Perhaps the man's search for himself needed a friendly balance.
"I need one room for one night, how much is it?" The lack of patience rang in her voice.
"That will be 85 francs madame" his eyes seemed to have lost their biblical leash as they began to screen the women's chest in front of him. She quickly tossed him 90 francs and grabbed the key from his hand as he shoots her a grin, apparently her anger amuses him.
"Pssh women..." he mumbles to himself as he picks up the book about finding yourself and continued to indeed, find himself.
"What floor are we on maman?" Gasping for breath while following his mother up the first flight of stairs with the bags dangling from his frail arms, he looks up at her.
"The key says room 304, which means we're on the third floor." She answered.
He lets out a long sigh and hustles up the rest of the way.
The room was dark with a small twin sized bed in the center covered with dark blue sheets. There was a small window on the far side of the room that looked down into the alleyway where more garbage cans lay topless. The carpet was a dark green that almost seemed black. The room was incased with the smell of old cloth mixed with accents of mildew. Next to the bed lies a small lamp without a cover, regardless the lighting was still dark which added a sense of deep gloom to the room. It didn't help raise the spirits of neither of the two as they settled themselves in. There was a long period of silence as his mother began to fondle with various items from her suitcase. He sat at the edge of the bed starring into space, motionless. He wanted to ask her about their plans, where they were going and who are they to stay with. But it is not a good time, he knows her. Bringing up her plans of action at this time would only cause an argument whether they are well mapped out or if she was as confused as he was. Lately he's been avoiding verbal battles with her the best he could but of course with the regretted sacrifice of his sanity.
"Are you hungry? You must be hungry, you barely ate today."
"No I'm not, I'm fine" he lied. He is in fact hungry now that she mentioned it. He realized his stomach has been growling ever since he was on the train but the loud sound of the tracks made him unaware of it.
"I'll sleep on the floor" he insisted.
"No you wont we can sleep together, there's enough room."
"Maman its ok I don't care--"
"Ocean, don't start with me right now. Why can't you just be less complicated?" She looks at him bewildered as she places her hands on her hips searching for his cooperation.
"I'm not trying to start anything. Listen, I slept in worse places before, the carpet is fine, and it makes no difference. Please, can we just go to sleep? "
She sighs placing a hand over her face and buries herself in it. "You know what; jus--- just do whatever you want I don't care anymore ok?"
He runs his hands through his hair and breathes heavily while starring at the ground "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. Come on lets go to sleep ok? I just want to sleep right now, I'm tired."
He reaches out to touch her shoulder remembering how she touched his earlier but she quickly slips into the bed and turns off the lamp. He stands there for a while in the dark as he ponders the confusions in his head. "How can simple communication become so difficult?" he thought. He took off his earmuffs and angrily tossed them in to the corner of the small room. He unbuttons his coat and hung it on a chair by the wall to dry. The rain has dampened his inner shirt as well, leaving him with an irritating wetness on his skin. He peeled off the thin white t-shirt revealing his pale damp chest. He slipped out of his corduroys, bunched them into a ball, and tossed them into the corner of the room as well along with his t-shirt. His briefs managed to stay dry though as he kicked his Addidas's off towards the door and unrolled his drenched socks from his feet. The air on his bare wet skin raised goose bumps on his arms as he crosses them while letting out a silent shiver. He stretches his arms to feel the bed post as it guides him towards the opposite side to where his mother was sleeping. He quietly slips under the thin covers and wraps it around his head only to reveal his face. He tucks his knees close to his stomach as he tries to warm up and get comfortable. By now his mother was snoring. He listens to her breathing as he attempts to drift away.
Sleeping is a vital essential to life but for him it is a pain ridden activity that would strain his conscience almost every night. Dreams are always nightmares after he closes his eyes. Nightmares that made him shout in his sleep, sometimes he wishes he can wake up but there is no control. He knows that these visions are real, they happen far too often and the same scenes have been bombarding his rest for nearly a year now. The nightmares began conveniently after the big incident, leaving him fearful of sleep. Only when he is especially tired is he able to capture the precious "dreamless" sleep that can carry him towards daylight. Usually this fatigue would occur only after days of sleepless nights where the monsters of his mind dominate his moments of peace.
Lying still, he listens to the pattering of rain outside on the window sill. Perhaps he is tired enough he thought. Perhaps tonight it will be good, it will be ok. He closes his eyes and opens them over and over. The coldness has eased and his skin began to dry underneath the covers, he was comfortable but he needed to sleep. Still, he is much too afraid; he thought he would be used to this routine by now but that is far from the case. Closing his eyes would bring the possibility of pain again. Yet it has been two days already, despite his nap on the train he has been sleepless. Maybe that's why his mother thinks he is so clueless; maybe that's why he is so out of place. Whatever the cause, frustration began to merge with fear as he pulled the covers over his head and buries his face deep in to the mattress. He presses his weight down hoping the mattress will embrace him, let him sink into its fabric, and protect him from this cruel madness. He wants nothing more than to blend away and have no thought whatsoever, but that would be too easy not to mention impossible. He has learned well before that easiness only comes when things are going your way, besides that everything is a fight. The sounds of his nightmares begin to grow from a misleading whisper to savage audacity. Unfortunately for him, tonight would be no different from all the other nights ravaged with pain, fear, and confusion. He involuntarily closes his eyes and once again starts to drift away into the unforgettable nightly abyss.
Chapter Four