Date: Tue, 7 Mar 2000 02:11:39 -0800 (PST) From: The Alienist <alienist_hk@yahoo.com> Subject: "Holding On For Dear Life, Part 4" "Holding On For Dear Life" Part 4 By Alienist_hk@yahoo.com Disclaimer: This story is a work of erotic fiction involving teen boys. All the usual disclaimers apply. If you shouldn't be reading this, then please don't. You might go blind or something! Copyright Notice: This story is copyrighted by the author, who retains all rights. You may distribute or copy this story any way you like. PROVIDED that this copyright notice and author information remains intact, and that you do not change the story in any way. You may NOT charge any fees to distribute or access this story. After all, I didn't charge you, did I? This section of the story is dedicated to Dewey Arnold. Dewey is the first friend I've made who is also writing his first story series at the same time I am. He's a good friend, a colleague, and also a technical supervisor! Read his "For the Love of Pete" series, here on the Young Friends list of Nifty. You can see it just previous to mine by a few lines. It's a great story. Note: All words and phrases in Thai have been spelled to help the reader pronounce them correctly. Standard transliteration methods may vary. ______________________________________________________________________________ "Holding On For Dear Life" Part 4 INTERLUDE It's nearly impossible to fully grasp the breadth and depth of the miracle that has just happened. One lost soul, trapped almost completely inside his own head. Hardly any real emotional contact with anybody else. Caught up in a maze of beliefs that he thought were facts. He had always reacted to these "facts of life" by running and hiding and worrying and trying for good camouflage. Everything he avoided was what he really needed and wanted, though. That was the biggest problem. The things that caused him the most terror were what he most desperately wished for. To know somebody, and to be completely known as well. To love, and to be loved. He loved the Knights of the Round Table because he knew what it was like to wear armor. He had encased himself in emotional steel plates. His armor was so thick and so heavy that he couldn't move freely any more. Originally designed to protect himself, but now suffocating and isolating him at the same time. It was becoming impossible for any real "touch" to get through to him. And that second lost soul, adrift all by himself in an ocean bigger than the Pacific. He had never felt that his life was really his own. Worse than that, he didn't even know that he shouldn't have been left so utterly alone. But he wasn't even so much as miserable most of the time. He tried to avoid it. Misery is sometimes possible only along with awareness of something that could be better. One by one, the props that had held him up had been removed. Nobody intended real harm, but nobody had ever really intended to put his needs ahead of their own, either. That's just the way it was. He was totally and profoundly alone. And as his internal battery began to run out of the juice of life, there wasn't any outside source of energy to re-charge him. He'd never attempted much in the way of goals or ambitions. And the little hope there was, simply fading away to nothing. Can you see the two miracles that happened? One lost soul escaped the armor momentarily. He was able to dream about love. He accused himself of lust. But it wasn't lust only. It was love. And then he was somehow able to literally follow his dream. As though it might really come true after all. And when the time came to actually make contact with the object of his dreams, he didn't run away. He didn't just predict disaster and talk himself out of going to the boy. What a miracle that he could cross that little street and simply touch another person! And the miracle about the other lost soul? He realized that he wasn't totally alone after all. And another wondrous thing. He was able to hold on. (Interlude Ends) (Part 4 Continues...) Sakjai had stopped thinking when that pit opened in front of him in the concrete. He couldn't think anymore. He was finished. There wasn't anything he could do to protest. As he contemplated the oblivion in front of him, he wasn't really afraid anymore, either. He was a little relieved, actually. Perhaps not knowing anything anymore wouldn't be as bleak as what he knew now. As he teetered on the edge of the void, he was almost completely certain that he would simply fall in. Then, as he was about to submit to the inevitable, he heard a noise there in the darkness surrounding him. Was somebody there with him? He imagined himself deep in the darkest cave there ever was, and had just realized that the stone pathway under his feet was crumbling. And then, all of a sudden, there was a beam of light approaching him. He was amazed. He tried to take a step back from the brink. It seemed that he tripped on something behind him, and he fell down. But he was able to fall backward, and not into the pit. The light and the sound of somebody approaching him got louder. Then the light seemed to be shining in his eyes. Somebody was touching him, trying to hold onto him. So that he wouldn't fall into the depths. There was a voice speaking to him. He'd never experienced somebody speaking so clearly just to him alone. He'd never heard such urgency and concern from another person's voice. And that voice, that presence there with him in the darkness wanted to help him. The voice had said, "Hold on." He was so amazed that he had to ask if what he'd heard was correct. It was correct. And so he had started to hold on. He decided not to simply give in and disappear into the void forever. I can hold on? This is possible? I am not going to just fall into the darkness alone? I will try to believe this. Maybe this is something possible for me to do. I am holding on. Who is this person? He is so strong, so confident. He? Oh, I see. A man. I have never held onto a man before. Can he really help me? Yes, he can. He is already helping me. How did he know where I was? Never mind. Just hold on. I can do that. Then the man was speaking to him. "It'll be OK. I want to help." Speaking English to him. An American man. Is this place America? Never mind that. What has he just asked me? What do I want to do now? Do? I do not know. Oh, yes. I do know. "I will hold on to you." End of "Holding On For Dear Life" Part 4 To be continued! Comments, questions, and constructive criticism GLADLY welcomed! Please email me at Alienist_hk@yahoo.com I answer ALL emails! All flames automatically push flamers into the Pit of Darkness... "Alienist" was the first professional title used by psychiatrists and psychologists, beginning in the 1890's. These pioneer counselors and therapists were considered to be working with people "alienated" from themselves and others. That's still true today, isn't it?