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It's me again with another novel. I just finished this one. It's a fantasy novel involving the Greek gods, but it's different from what you might expect. It may have the name Centaurian, but there's no four legged centaurs in this story. It's very different. Read and you'll see.
Copyright © 2022 Rick Haydn Horst
Synopsys: An unusual man comes into the protection of Officer Liam Phillips, and the world will never be the same in this sexy LGBTQ adventure about the evolution of the gods, a need for real freedom, and the one being in the universe who can save them.
Chapter 1a
June 20th
Henri Estalon could never have found the perfect location in Miami simply by looking. An inner voice told him to use the southernmost point of Key Biscayne. So, on that warm and windy summer solstice, he and Ronan would allow the transfer to happen there, accepting that events would unfold as they should.
Eight o’clock had sped toward them, but the sun had yet to touch the horizon in that so-called, golden hour—which would last 32 minutes—before the sunset at 8:14. So, they waited in nail-biting anticipation upon the concrete sea wall staring out over the water.
“The world is a far more complicated place than in my day,” said Henri. “To lose the personal memories from your past in 2016 is a frightening prospect. People can verify things these days; you can’t just make stuff up anymore. And not to deter you—as the decision is yours—but have you the will to become the man you envision? None of the others ever drew such attention, and you must endure the repercussions for a thousand years.”
“I’m sure,” said Ronan. “I don’t know that anything I do will change much, but I want to make a difference somehow.”
“You will bring something quite new to Chiron’s unique existence; you are a very different sort of man from myself and the others that came before you.”
“You mean because I identify as gay.”
“Well, yes, there’s that…but then, perhaps, it’s just because I came from an era so far removed from this one, and there’s only so much a man can do to stay current. At this stage, I do feel a bit too disconnected from modernity to function well here. I suppose that’s why a change must occur every thousand years. In the end, Admissārius probably realized that too.”
“Are you afraid?” Ronan asked.
“No, and when your time comes, neither will you be.” He glanced down at Ronan’s lap, and he laughed a little at the skinny young man. “I don’t know that your plan with the oversized bathing suit will work. It won’t hurt to try, but Admissārius and I were both naked when the transfer happened, and…well…let’s just say one must experience it to understand why. But I will wear mine as an experiment, and we’ll see what happens.”
“You told me I would pass out. I just thought it would be better if I weren’t naked when that happens.”
“You will be half Chiron and therefore one-quarter equine, so Stallion by name, stallion by nature. An intellectual or not, Chiron would have suffered a deplorable sense of inadequacy as a pure human, so you both have a say. You agreed to this though, so you’ll just have to live with it as the rest of us have.”
Turning his head, Ronan checked both directions of the bicycle path behind them. “You’re sure this is the spot?”
Henri nodded. “I believe that we came to this spot for more than just the view, only Prometheus knows why, but I feel deep within me the importance of your presence here. So, fear not, the stars will reach their position, and it will happen as it should.”
Ronan held Henri’s hand. “I have loved you like a father. I want you to know that.”
“I know,” said Henri. “In 1026, I had one biological child, and I would have outlived them…and my grandchildren if they had any…and any great-grandchildren, and so on.”
“Can we have children? I got the impression that couldn’t happen.”
“Admissārius gave me that impression as well, but it happened just the once, and it never happened again. It was not something I intended; due to the nature of this life, I couldn’t stay. And while we’re not expressly forbidden to tell anyone anything, the fewer the better. What would I have said to them? One day the child or any of their progeny could turn eighty, and I would still be thirty. This life is not an easy one. It holds many incredible experiences that most people could never imagine, counterbalanced by enough heartbreak to make you question if it’s even worth it. But then, I met you. You’re the only one that I’ve had the opportunity to love like a son, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. You have made the last thousand years worthwhile, and I love you very much.”
Ronan squeezed his hand. “I don’t recall you telling me that you once had a girlfriend or was she your wife?”
“My wife. Her name was Rosine, and she was so beautiful. She used to call me her angele, her angel.”
Ronan had a wistful smile. “That’s nice.”
“I could never see myself as she saw me. She sensed my unusual nature, but she wasn’t the only one. Over the centuries, many people have sensed it; those are typically the people you can trust.”
They watched the sun in the distance as it met the sea. It had begun, so they left the wall and moved to the middle of the pathway.
“I don’t want you to go,” said Ronan, hugging Henri tightly.
“I have no choice,” he said in sympathy, “and despite how you feel at this moment, you don’t need me anymore. It’s time for you to take my place.”
Ronan hesitated to ask, “Will this hurt?”
“You’ve been afraid to ask me that question.”
“Yeah.”
“For me,” he said, “I don’t know. For you, this will be quite painful for a few moments, but you’ll fall unconscious for the worst of it. Fortunately, you won’t have to carry the memory of seeing me go, and I suspect that would hurt you more than anything else.”
They stood there in one another’s arms, prepared for a painful parting, watching the beauty of the sinking sun with the roar of the ocean and the wind in their ears. On any other occasion, such a scene would impart a sense of awe and the mystery about the simple joys of being alive.
When the sun had only one half left, Henri sounded a little breathless, “I’m beginning to feel hot.” He pulled Ronan more tightly to him. “Not long now.” When the last moments came, wisps of a fiery glow emerged from Henri and swirled around him. He brought his mouth near Ronan’s ear. “Remember to keep the love in your heart and the image in your mind.”
Henri’s body began to shudder, and the moment the sun vanished, a brilliant, white-hot light passed between them, and a searing burn ripped through Ronan’s body. His mouth gaped in a silent scream, and his arms—spread as they were—no longer wrapped Henri in a loving embrace. Keeping their chests together, Henri held him aloft when Ronan’s legs left the ground. Every nerve blistering like he had become fire itself. The pain overwhelmed his senses, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
His strength failing him, Henri used the last he had to lower Ronan’s naked body to the ground. He stood over him only for a moment and gazed upon the young man whom he had loved for many years. He had time for three words, “Goodbye, my son.” His feet no longer held him, and as he tipped away from Ronan, the wind caught bits of ash until he crashed upon the ground in a billowing plume, carried on the breeze to the sea, and by morning, the remainder would lay indistinguishable from the inconsequential dust beneath any passing jogger’s feet.
June 21st
Officer Liam Phillips would never procrastinate with the snooze button for an extra five minutes of sleep, nor would he set all his clocks ahead ten minutes to compensate for a lifetime of tardiness. In his perpetual best-foot-forward attitude, for five days of every week, when the alarm went off, his feet would hit the floor for his morning exercise in the gym up the street. Unlike a stereotypical cop, Officer Phillips stayed fit. He never knew when he needed any specific ability; not that his job on Key Biscayne consisted of the frequent pulling of victims from burning vehicles, but he could manage it with ease if the occasion should arise, and to him, that mattered most.
Five years earlier, he started work at the station on the key. At that time, he moved into a one-bedroom, South-Point apartment on Collins Avenue, but he never settled in. The apartment’s empty white walls lacked a personal touch, and a veritable Klotski of square boxes holding much of his past, all packed and taped with care, remained stacked against the dining room wall, a puzzle that needed solving for why he had yet to make a home there.
After a morning workout, he ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, oatmeal, plain yogurt, fruit, and coffee while he caught up on the news and weather report, followed by readying himself for work, singing along with whatever song suited his mood from the eclectic array of music on his smartphone.
He used the towel to defog the bathroom mirror to the metronomic beat of “I Love a Rainy Night” and lathered up for a quick shave of his sun-kissed skin. As a Florida Police Officer, they had regulations against facial hair, and that made grooming more complicated for him. His dark beard hair would blend into his chest hair if he let it, but with manscaping all the rage, he had a plethora of options for trimmers to fight the growth that sought to emerge from beneath his t-shirts, and he kept his trimmed to the collarbone.
He leaned close to the mirror as he donned his contact lenses. His mother, grandmother, classmates, past boyfriends, and anyone who ever got close enough to his face would comment about his eyes. Strangers would often ask if they were natural, as most anyone else would have to fake the cornflower blue that garnered so much attention in his youth.
He parked his Jeep at the station, stared at the building, and smiled to himself. He enjoyed being a police officer on Key Biscayne. Some might say he enjoyed it a little too much.
Uniformed and ready, he sauntered into the department at 7:54 AM to check in and get a cup of coffee, as everyone did.
“Good morning, short-timer,” said Rodriguez at the front desk.
“Hey! I figured you would get back out there today.”
“No. They removed the cast and said my arm was fine, but here I am for seven more days of light-duty; the doctor insisted. I cover for you starting next week. And speaking of that, Sergeant Watkins told me you’ve not taken a vacation in three years, and they made you use it or lose it. What is wrong with you?”
Phillips laughed. “Isn’t every day a vacation when you love your job?”
“No,” stated Sergeant Watkins who had walked up behind him, shaking his head at such a ridiculous idea. “And since this is your last day before you begin a prescribed six weeks of workaholic rehabilitation—and I know we’ll get so little out of you today—I will offer it to you again, if you want to take a personal day and just go, no one will blame you.”
Copyright © 2022 Rick Haydn Horst
Synopsys: An unusual man comes into the protection of Officer Liam Phillips, and the world will never be the same in this sexy LGBTQ adventure about the evolution of the gods, a need for real freedom, and the one being in the universe who can save them.
Chapter 1a
June 20th
Henri Estalon could never have found the perfect location in Miami simply by looking. An inner voice told him to use the southernmost point of Key Biscayne. So, on that warm and windy summer solstice, he and Ronan would allow the transfer to happen there, accepting that events would unfold as they should.
Eight o’clock had sped toward them, but the sun had yet to touch the horizon in that so-called, golden hour—which would last 32 minutes—before the sunset at 8:14. So, they waited in nail-biting anticipation upon the concrete sea wall staring out over the water.
“The world is a far more complicated place than in my day,” said Henri. “To lose the personal memories from your past in 2016 is a frightening prospect. People can verify things these days; you can’t just make stuff up anymore. And not to deter you—as the decision is yours—but have you the will to become the man you envision? None of the others ever drew such attention, and you must endure the repercussions for a thousand years.”
“I’m sure,” said Ronan. “I don’t know that anything I do will change much, but I want to make a difference somehow.”
“You will bring something quite new to Chiron’s unique existence; you are a very different sort of man from myself and the others that came before you.”
“You mean because I identify as gay.”
“Well, yes, there’s that…but then, perhaps, it’s just because I came from an era so far removed from this one, and there’s only so much a man can do to stay current. At this stage, I do feel a bit too disconnected from modernity to function well here. I suppose that’s why a change must occur every thousand years. In the end, Admissārius probably realized that too.”
“Are you afraid?” Ronan asked.
“No, and when your time comes, neither will you be.” He glanced down at Ronan’s lap, and he laughed a little at the skinny young man. “I don’t know that your plan with the oversized bathing suit will work. It won’t hurt to try, but Admissārius and I were both naked when the transfer happened, and…well…let’s just say one must experience it to understand why. But I will wear mine as an experiment, and we’ll see what happens.”
“You told me I would pass out. I just thought it would be better if I weren’t naked when that happens.”
“You will be half Chiron and therefore one-quarter equine, so Stallion by name, stallion by nature. An intellectual or not, Chiron would have suffered a deplorable sense of inadequacy as a pure human, so you both have a say. You agreed to this though, so you’ll just have to live with it as the rest of us have.”
Turning his head, Ronan checked both directions of the bicycle path behind them. “You’re sure this is the spot?”
Henri nodded. “I believe that we came to this spot for more than just the view, only Prometheus knows why, but I feel deep within me the importance of your presence here. So, fear not, the stars will reach their position, and it will happen as it should.”
Ronan held Henri’s hand. “I have loved you like a father. I want you to know that.”
“I know,” said Henri. “In 1026, I had one biological child, and I would have outlived them…and my grandchildren if they had any…and any great-grandchildren, and so on.”
“Can we have children? I got the impression that couldn’t happen.”
“Admissārius gave me that impression as well, but it happened just the once, and it never happened again. It was not something I intended; due to the nature of this life, I couldn’t stay. And while we’re not expressly forbidden to tell anyone anything, the fewer the better. What would I have said to them? One day the child or any of their progeny could turn eighty, and I would still be thirty. This life is not an easy one. It holds many incredible experiences that most people could never imagine, counterbalanced by enough heartbreak to make you question if it’s even worth it. But then, I met you. You’re the only one that I’ve had the opportunity to love like a son, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. You have made the last thousand years worthwhile, and I love you very much.”
Ronan squeezed his hand. “I don’t recall you telling me that you once had a girlfriend or was she your wife?”
“My wife. Her name was Rosine, and she was so beautiful. She used to call me her angele, her angel.”
Ronan had a wistful smile. “That’s nice.”
“I could never see myself as she saw me. She sensed my unusual nature, but she wasn’t the only one. Over the centuries, many people have sensed it; those are typically the people you can trust.”
They watched the sun in the distance as it met the sea. It had begun, so they left the wall and moved to the middle of the pathway.
“I don’t want you to go,” said Ronan, hugging Henri tightly.
“I have no choice,” he said in sympathy, “and despite how you feel at this moment, you don’t need me anymore. It’s time for you to take my place.”
Ronan hesitated to ask, “Will this hurt?”
“You’ve been afraid to ask me that question.”
“Yeah.”
“For me,” he said, “I don’t know. For you, this will be quite painful for a few moments, but you’ll fall unconscious for the worst of it. Fortunately, you won’t have to carry the memory of seeing me go, and I suspect that would hurt you more than anything else.”
They stood there in one another’s arms, prepared for a painful parting, watching the beauty of the sinking sun with the roar of the ocean and the wind in their ears. On any other occasion, such a scene would impart a sense of awe and the mystery about the simple joys of being alive.
When the sun had only one half left, Henri sounded a little breathless, “I’m beginning to feel hot.” He pulled Ronan more tightly to him. “Not long now.” When the last moments came, wisps of a fiery glow emerged from Henri and swirled around him. He brought his mouth near Ronan’s ear. “Remember to keep the love in your heart and the image in your mind.”
Henri’s body began to shudder, and the moment the sun vanished, a brilliant, white-hot light passed between them, and a searing burn ripped through Ronan’s body. His mouth gaped in a silent scream, and his arms—spread as they were—no longer wrapped Henri in a loving embrace. Keeping their chests together, Henri held him aloft when Ronan’s legs left the ground. Every nerve blistering like he had become fire itself. The pain overwhelmed his senses, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
His strength failing him, Henri used the last he had to lower Ronan’s naked body to the ground. He stood over him only for a moment and gazed upon the young man whom he had loved for many years. He had time for three words, “Goodbye, my son.” His feet no longer held him, and as he tipped away from Ronan, the wind caught bits of ash until he crashed upon the ground in a billowing plume, carried on the breeze to the sea, and by morning, the remainder would lay indistinguishable from the inconsequential dust beneath any passing jogger’s feet.
June 21st
Officer Liam Phillips would never procrastinate with the snooze button for an extra five minutes of sleep, nor would he set all his clocks ahead ten minutes to compensate for a lifetime of tardiness. In his perpetual best-foot-forward attitude, for five days of every week, when the alarm went off, his feet would hit the floor for his morning exercise in the gym up the street. Unlike a stereotypical cop, Officer Phillips stayed fit. He never knew when he needed any specific ability; not that his job on Key Biscayne consisted of the frequent pulling of victims from burning vehicles, but he could manage it with ease if the occasion should arise, and to him, that mattered most.
Five years earlier, he started work at the station on the key. At that time, he moved into a one-bedroom, South-Point apartment on Collins Avenue, but he never settled in. The apartment’s empty white walls lacked a personal touch, and a veritable Klotski of square boxes holding much of his past, all packed and taped with care, remained stacked against the dining room wall, a puzzle that needed solving for why he had yet to make a home there.
After a morning workout, he ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, oatmeal, plain yogurt, fruit, and coffee while he caught up on the news and weather report, followed by readying himself for work, singing along with whatever song suited his mood from the eclectic array of music on his smartphone.
He used the towel to defog the bathroom mirror to the metronomic beat of “I Love a Rainy Night” and lathered up for a quick shave of his sun-kissed skin. As a Florida Police Officer, they had regulations against facial hair, and that made grooming more complicated for him. His dark beard hair would blend into his chest hair if he let it, but with manscaping all the rage, he had a plethora of options for trimmers to fight the growth that sought to emerge from beneath his t-shirts, and he kept his trimmed to the collarbone.
He leaned close to the mirror as he donned his contact lenses. His mother, grandmother, classmates, past boyfriends, and anyone who ever got close enough to his face would comment about his eyes. Strangers would often ask if they were natural, as most anyone else would have to fake the cornflower blue that garnered so much attention in his youth.
He parked his Jeep at the station, stared at the building, and smiled to himself. He enjoyed being a police officer on Key Biscayne. Some might say he enjoyed it a little too much.
Uniformed and ready, he sauntered into the department at 7:54 AM to check in and get a cup of coffee, as everyone did.
“Good morning, short-timer,” said Rodriguez at the front desk.
“Hey! I figured you would get back out there today.”
“No. They removed the cast and said my arm was fine, but here I am for seven more days of light-duty; the doctor insisted. I cover for you starting next week. And speaking of that, Sergeant Watkins told me you’ve not taken a vacation in three years, and they made you use it or lose it. What is wrong with you?”
Phillips laughed. “Isn’t every day a vacation when you love your job?”
“No,” stated Sergeant Watkins who had walked up behind him, shaking his head at such a ridiculous idea. “And since this is your last day before you begin a prescribed six weeks of workaholic rehabilitation—and I know we’ll get so little out of you today—I will offer it to you again, if you want to take a personal day and just go, no one will blame you.”