Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2007 18:03:01 -0800 (PST)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: Christmas at Eleven (incest, young-friends)

			    Christmas at Eleven
				    By
			     Timothy Stillman

(To Jordan, who asked for more of Chad and Key)

Their names were Chad and Key. They were eleven this Christmas. They were
twins. They had no one but each other. They had not seen each other since
they were eight. They wrote letters to each other. The letters were long
and involved as only letters from introspective children can be. Their
letters were torn up and never mailed. The boys secretly knew, but it
would have killed their hearts to know for sure, so they never asked, any
mail for me today? The answer already given.

Their parents had separated two weeks after their eighth Christmas. They
had not seen each other in all that time. They had had only each other.

They had been moved to their grandparents' houses to live. Chad with his
maternal grandparents. Key with his paternal ones. They each lived at the
opposite end of the country. Their grandparents were getting elderly and
had no need for computers. Phone calls cost a fortune. There was a
custody fight. It was quite terrible and scary for the twins.

They thought of their parents seldom. They thought of each other
endlessly. Chad was writing a long story about a vampire boy. He and his
vampire families had wiped out all life on the earth^so they
thought---but there was a human enclave hiding in a cave. And in that
enclave was a boy-mostly boy, one-tenth werewolf^named Key. In the
story, when Key found himself with Chad, the vampire boy and the
one-tenth-werewolf boy, had made love. And had made each other both more
and less than what they had been, all at the same time.

As Chad and Key in real life had made love too. That last Christmas when
they were eight, with two weeks of life left with each other in their
lives. In the story, Chad made them older, made them stronger, made them
brave, made them both so very very lonely. This Christmas, they were
finally going home^somewhat.

Dad was flying to the Coast tomorrow. Chad and Key were to meet him at
the Sheraton Inn in L.A., not the greatest place for Christmas. Snow and
cold were Chad's domain and the part of the country he lived in gave him
multitude of it. Key lived in Florida where it was always so depressingly
hot and humid and sunny, even when it rained, you could still see that
damn sun shining. Sometimes at night too, so it seemed. It was
relentless.

Chad had cold and snowstorms and clothes not warm enough that caused him
to shiver. Tonight was the final night before he got to fly to L.A. all
on his own. He would be met by his brother, name of Key, at LAX, and
their father. Mr. Somebody or something, would be with them and hug them
and take them to lunch and dinner and to the hotel room where he would
give them presents and then a good night's sleep, till he had to leave
for a job appointment, and his sons had to get on the plane the next
day^that very next day after they met each other at LAX and be apart
again again again^. And they, Key and Chad, refused to think of that.

The going away day would not exist again. Not ever. So that night, Chad,
in his drafty house, wrote of Chad the vampire and Key the werewolf boy
and how they made love that first time in the snow. How it turned Chad
from being a vampire to being human. How it turned the part-werewolf boy
into full human as well.

That eighth Christmas, they had been in bed Christmas Eve night, and they
had been fooling round as usual. Only this time, there was an edge to it.
An urgency to it. A sadness they had felt often when being apart from
each other even for a few hours. Now, they were being split apart like
conjoined twins. Which in many emotional ways they were. They had held
each other that night, in their warm jammies and had played with each
other's penises against the material and outside of it, touching feeling
pressing finding it so warm and so alive.

As they had in the past. But this time, Chad let Key rub his penis,
Chad's, all the way, making Chad shiver and cry out a little. And Key
looked at his brother's penis throbbing, with great wide eyes and great
wide wonder. Then Chad did him. And it was like Christmas inside
Key^candles, Christmas tree lights, and wonderful presents giggling down
way deep in him like in a long tunnel of forever boy.

Chad was rubbing himself here in his little room, writing the fantasy of
himself and his brother. What made them so terribly vulnerable, what made
them that final Christmas in the world, take off their clothes and lie
one atop the other, then reverse order, was all the sad and happy and
already going things of childhood^the feel of a winter night's first
kiss^the love of a mom and dad holding you for no reason other than they
loved you and wanted you to know^that was what was in the story and in
reality of the final Christmas of the world Chad and Key had been
doing^holding each other because they loved each other and wanted, each
in kind, to know it. For sure and forever.

The terrible thought now^had they forgotten each other? Would they be
awkward in each other's presence? Would that dream be made a travesty
too? When you're ten, you say don't think it, and you do not, in that
powerful way children have to protect themselves and their very beings.

Chad made the little human tribe in the story, almost gone, because the
remaining humans were weak with hunger and torn apart by vampires who
hunted them down on the run. The vampires were eating all their kills.
They were not content now with just sucking their little herd's anemic
blood, but had them outright, needing meat, finding little anymore.
Vampires die of hunger also, especially when the blood supply is also
used up. So the vampires began to feast on each other. And sometimes, if
it came to that, on their own bodies as well.

Chad and Key did not need clothing though it was cold and snow deep. They
had found, each in turn, the key to turn on the heat in themselves, in
their tummies, the same heat that they had found when they played with
each other that final night and how safe they felt^smiles and giggles
softly and whisper bats of word wings and touching each other everywhere
there was to touch, and since they were identical twins, how much fun it
was making sex, making love with each other, as well as the image of the
other and the same as well, different but still and all...

The Blue Horse notebook was filled now with Chad's pointy, spidery
handwriting. It was a lurid story, lots about Chad and Key just doing all
these wonderful outlaw things..finding an old motorcycle..that Chad was,
of course, smart enough to make run, though he had never seen one ever
before in real life^no key?^presto chango^here's the key^and off
they go naked in the winter, Key behind him, holding on tighter than
necessary, to a place of nothing but happiness..nothing but blue warm
swimming pools in the middle of all the chalk winter white^of diving in
and holding each other and feeling each other under water and sticking
their penises in each other's mouths and playing with their smooth balls
and their dicks and their groins and tickling and pinching their tits and
holding tightly because they loved each other and wanted the other to
know.

Every science fiction book and movie about the almost end of life on
Earth was^well^about ultimately, repopulating^that was always the
after WW III theme or the vampire plague theme^but Chad thought, why not
let the world end? Why not be the last two gatekeepers of Earth? Chad
loved Key. He never masturbated without thinking of his brother. Key
loved Chad and always thought of him naked and longed to touch him so.
Why not let that be the former vampire and the former almost all but
partly werewolf boy's last legacy of Earth.

To say here we are, the children everybody said they cared so about, that
everybody bleated about so much and made such a big to-do about, so they
could impress themselves and each other, we standing for all the
brutalized, abandoned, murdered, uncared for, dying of sickness and
starvation and not one loving had to ever touch us, while you were
spouting off at your oh so moral mouths, and here we are young and
identical twins and we love having sex with each other and we are kind
and gentle and we care for one another like you never did.

When one or the other of us grows a slight mini-inch on our dick, we
don't see it as competition, but celebrate familiar pride.

When some down grows on Key's groin before it does on Chad's, then fine
and good and congrats bro. And when Chad wrote about being fucked by
Chad, in the story, he made it feel just filling and happy and good and
sexy. It wasn't about pain or something horrible. Something horrible had
killed all life. Something horrible was bowed down to. Well, all that
stuff was gone now^Chad and Key had survived to live in a new fresh
world.


And when they grew old enough and tired enough and they died in each
other's arms^because they would die together as they breathed, ate,
slept, had sex, sucked each other, fucked each other^together, that
would be brother and brother still and true and faithful of heart. They
would think together and they would stop thinking together.


And, to Chad, having jacked himself off twice in the last half hour,
writing this and then reading it over, getting sleepy, night wearing on,
it seemed fair and right and equitable and very beautiful that he and Key
would never be parted. Not ever again. And they would make love, have
sex, all the time and never get tired or bored or achy or not interested
or not having stuff to talk about and fall into these awkward silences
adults did, like when trying to explain the facts of life to you; you
knowing infinitely more than they, and the explainers so embarrassed and
so silent at long times, you wanting to laugh your ass off, but being
respectful nonetheless. Till you were alone. Then you laughed your ass
off. To your heart's and to your ass' content.

Chad lay his head down on his notebook, his pen falling to the floor. A
few hours more till he took the plane ride^and truthfully, he was scared
about it for lots of reasons^he had never been alone before, but without
Key, he was always alone. But he would see Key soon and he was excited
beyond words, and they would run away into L.A. and they would get jobs
of some sort, find a place of some sort to live, be together for
always-Chad might get this novel published^they would become
famous^they would be together^and the exact same time Chad thought
together and fell profoundly asleep^dreaming of seeing his brother, his
twin mirror, his love^and all the changes and all the love to grow still
further^"Together" said Chad in a special mirror-placed dream,
"Together."

Key said at the other end of the country, "Together," at the exact same
time..and "Together" again..and then fell profoundly asleep in his bed,
the knees he had had pulled up, falling slack, on which he supported his
Blue Horse notebook and pencil had been propped, said notebook and pencil
falling to the side of his little bed.

He was so happy he would see Chad. His other self. His love and true. And
they would explore each other. See how each had changed. Who had
developed any pube hair, whose penis was bigger-who was shooting yet and
who wasn't?^and in his sleep, Key giggled and snuggled in deeper under
the light covers in the too hot night and slept profoundly.

They would discover tomorrow morning at eleven fifteen a.m. each the
other. And they would hold each other in the airport and look at each
other and laugh and celebrate life and the joy of breathing oh God it
would be wonderful.. while that irritating shadow of some man or other,
their father^yeah, right, sure-- stood there totally ignored then and
there and the rest of the time together and the rest of his life, if his
sons had anything to say about it. And that night, when Dad went out to a
meeting, the boys alone in their hotel room, one would bring out a Blue
Horse notebook and the other would do the same..from their suitcases at
the same time^

And stunned, they would look at the notebooks and each other as blue eyes
stared into blue eyes and dark raven hair was the perfect image each the
other, as they would almost tear the notebooks out of each other's
hands, riffling through the pages feverishly, stopping to read sentences,
saying them aloud, before reading them here and now-the words, the plot,
the sentences, the characters, the feelings, the end of the world getting
it right thanks to a former werewolf in part boy and a former vampire
boy^and the twins threw the notebooks on the carpeting and all but
hopped in each other's arms and they kissed and laughed and tickled each
other and they fell on one of the beds and started taking off their
clothes and began playing with each other, each, the other, having much
time to make up for, and made each other harder in their new longer
penises and sucked each other off and put their heads on the other's
chest and felt heart beats still in rhythm, one with the other.

When the man who had the audacity to call himself their Dad showed up
late that night, three sheets to the wind, he found his two sons, that
word "sons" in his lexicon at least, not theirs, asleep and innocent,
while in their dreams they were united together forever, naked and
fucking and sexy and spurting, as twin hand held out to twin hand---and
touched.

It was winter love. And winter love is the very best kind there is. For
it never lets you go.