Chapter One

In hopes of receiving some constructive criticism, I am turning to you.
Here starts the journey of my first Gay Novel (although it is my first novel, to spite the man on man action) and I do believe it has the power to cross the lines from gay fiction into what I like to refer to as straight friendly.
It’s almost three quarters of the way in, so all comments, emails, rants and raves will be carefully noted and appreciated.

Here’s to the love of all things weird and wonderful…

>The Beginning?
Location: Cape Town
Date: February 2013

Emmanuel’s running down the street at full speed. His heart’s racing faster than it’s ever raced before. His mind’s filled with things he never could have imagined…

Doof-doof, doof-doof, doof

He can feel the road beneath his feet with every pounding step he lunges forward and he knows exactly where he’s going. He’s glad that it’s so early in the morning, the streets are empty, encouraging him to pick up the pace…

Doof, doof, doof, doof, doof,

Straight down Darling Street, zooming past the Edwardian buildings towards the outer edge road, the last street of the city. That will lead him to where he needs to be. He doesn’t slow down. He’s running as if he’s a man with blood on his hands, and when he looks down, just to be sure there’s no blood, he can’t believe he’s holding a gun. Still clutching it in his right hand. But he can’t remember taking the gun out. He can’t remember where he even found it. He knows he used it but did someone get hurt? Emmanuel can’t remember.

Doof, doof, doof, doof…

Going right up Buitenkant Street, he races with all his might up the slow inclination towards his destination…

Doof doof doof doof doof doof

And in no time he’s nearing Roeland Street, one left turn and a few more meters and he’ll be where he needs to be…

Doof-doof-doof-doof-doof…

Emmanuel doesn’t slow down; he sees his destination ahead, even though his back is in pain. His shirt’s sticking to the fresh scab that is starting to form, as if his entire back was grazed on a tar surface. The blood seeped out and then clotted.

Doof…doof doof…doof…doof…doof…doof, doof…

Slowing down as he reaches the entrance, but on the door it reads: “Open From 08h00 – 17h00”.
He doesn’t know what to do and for a second he thinks that the entire running saga was futile. He’s out of breath, a few hours too soon, so he places the gun in his pants, figuring it best to get out of sight. Not really wanting to hold onto it, the fear of who might find it keeps him from tossing it. Emmanuel walks to the side of the building and waits, out of sight, for U-Store to open its doors but as he crouches next to the wall – with a gun holstered on his belt – he realises he looks way suspect. Moving back to the front, he sits at the entrance – facing the store, not the street, just in case someone is following him or looking for him. This way Emmanuel could conceal his face, without startling the first employee to arrive. And he waits to collect his car.

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