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The Eclectic Pen - twelve

By: ericjasongastelum   + 52 more  
Date Submitted: 8/21/2011
Last Updated: 8/21/2011
Words: 1,733

  there is a place in my mind that is full of confusion and danger. a place that will never know clarity. a room whose door i open on occasion, i turn on the light and all that i hear is the echo of the light switch. we all have these rooms within us, each one of us, all of us. a place that has stained us deeply with the softest bruises or the slightest of cuts. places that we tell others that we do not want to revisit, but they promise to go there with us in hopes to fix us.
it was my twelfth birthday, all i wanted was to spend time in a field outside of the date orchards by my house. upon waking up the only thing on my mind was that sixty acre field that was surrounded on one side by a cinder block wall. twenty feet from the wall ran an irrigation canal for the field. that wall was the boundary for a massive community of adobe homes and two convenience stores.
the canal was home to toads, snakes, crayfish and swallows, it was full of life.
i only know this because my favorite past time was to catch all the living creatures in that canal.
two adjoining sides of the field ended to meet a wall of tall date trees. there were straight dirt avenues every hundred yards or so in these orchards.
the field opened up at one end to a four lane street.
my best friend, ashley, and i would always ride our bikes everywhere. the days were near perfect. the sun always hanging in the sky, the temperature was never under eighty five degrees. no one told us the canal was a bad place to swim, or that picking up dead birds was not safe, and no one cared to lecture us about much.
we were never causing trouble, we simply rode our bikes together through the neighborhood, and it seemed that an adventure was always possible. we talked about everything on those rides. she would tell me about what she wanted to do when she grew up, which was a different occupation each week or so, and about how much she loved birds. i would lead our excursions around the neighborhood and we would keep each other company. it seemed to me that there was nothing we could not talk about. we got along very well and did nearly everything together.
she came over to my house about an hour after school that day and we set out on our adventure.
we rode our bikes on the sidewalks and through parking lots of businesses. blazed through crosswalks at what seemed to be the quickest speeds we could manifest with our legs. finally we made our way to the alley that ended by a crossed iron gate with a ‘do not enter’ sign attached. the gate was to keep traffic out, but any human could crouch down and shuffle a foot or so beneath the iron bars to pass it. beyond the gate the orchards resided and halted at the beautiful golden field i had always loved.
we hunched under the gate and drug our bikes under after us then began to ride down the shaded dirt avenue between the trees.
it was then that ashley decided to speak about what would become the point of no return for us. she spent time talking about what her cousin had told her . ashley’s cousin told her that there is a substance that comes out of males after they rub their private parts. i became interested because i did not know what she meant and i believed that my body could do this because i was a male. she spoke with inexperience and due to my own lack of experience i listened, with great attention, to every word.

i believed her, and i also did not know what she was talking about.
we arrived at the field, emerging out of the shade of the orchards.
march 14th 1996.

we got off our bikes and walked toward the field, it shimmered golden. a breeze caught under my shirt and made the drops of sweat all over my back and torso instantly chilled. ashleys oily hair whipped through the air, that dirty blond hair. we walked out toward the middle of the endless field, and ashley kept going on and on about body parts, and it was then that i noticed how curiously interested she was in all the words she would speak.
“my cousin said her friend showed her the stuff that came out of him after he rubbed his privates.” ashley said with pale eyes, trying to spike my interest in rubbing my crotch to show her it was fact and not fiction. she continued, “she told me it was sticky and warm.”
after a while i sat on the ground in the middle of the field, like i usually did, and told her that it was my birthday. she asked me if i could show her my semen and i told her i could try. after ten or maybe twenty minutes of her and i trying diligently nothing happened. i wanted to see what she was talking about, but it was frustrating and i felt as though i was defective. nothing bothered us and we continued and explored each other, and kissed like kids kissed and touched like kids touched.
my penis was erect and a drop of liquid would emerge and coast down my glans from time to time. i was convinced that had been the substance ashley’s cousin spoke of, but ashley was not satisfied. she would grab and pull at it for a while and every time she did i felt a burst like a bullet entering my skin through my stomach. that burst mixed with a tickle sensation all over my body with waves of contractions between my anus and my testicles. i never came that day, but i felt giddy and strangely attached to ashley in a way i do not believe i will ever feel attached to any other human again.
that field would host many more occurrences between ashley and i, and each time she wanted that liquid, that eruption from my small body. i never understood why she wanted that one thing from me so much. why she wanted me to ejaculate. it came to the point where it seemed as though she only wanted to have sex with me and do sexual activities. all i wanted was my friend and my adventure buddy back. as time went on i grew dependent on the way i felt after she would touch me, and soon became addicted to what it felt like when i entered her budding body.

two years later she became pregnant because we were at it three to four times a week some weeks. she learned how to make me ejaculate and i learned how to thrust. ashley’s mother discovered that ashley was pregnant and her father talked with my mother about the situation. there was something about how sneaky we had to be that should have lead me to believe that the sex we were having was ill timed, but it felt good. it felt like being hungry for a week and then binging on all the food i could ever imagine existing. it felt like swimming for twenty miles then sleeping for a month straight. it felt like shooting crystal meth then hours later slamming heroin. her tight body was the body that i would judge the female form on for the rest of my life.
after three months of ashley and i planting that seed deep inside of her body something tragic happened. something more frightening than ashley becoming pregnant; she was peeing one day and there was blood, lots of blood pasted to her panties and oozing from the opening between her labia. she was rushed to the hospital and the baby was dead. the being died within her.
at that moment in my life, i was overwhelmed with a depression that would last for over ten months. the depression affected my relationship with ashley and we grew apart. i was overly suspicious as to why ashley seemed fine about the whole situation in a few months time. to me, the way i understood it was that the baby growing inside of her was a part of me, and a part of her, a being made from pieces of ourselves that were specially made in only a way that we could create them.
it was my understanding that every male and female had their own special chemicals and they were arranged differently to make a different type of human each time intercourse took place.
she still wanted me inside of her after time went on, and i just wanted to go back into time and change everything. i wanted strands of my saliva, stretched between her body and my lips, to drip upwards back into my mouth. to have my hands slide her panties from the ground to her hips and then the same with her pants and zip them up, latch her button between that fabric, place her shirt back on in reverse.
everything backwards.

i wanted to never turn twelve, i wanted her cousin to never learn that men create that liquid, that nectar, that poison. everything in reverse, all of it. to have my curiosity placed back into the dark caves miles outside of the town within me where my purity laid naked beside my inexperience. miles away from the city in my head where i lived some many years prior. backwards in a way that we can only dream. falling upward through life until i arrive back at the entrance of my precious mothers delicate vagina. where i push the air out of my lungs and become ooze and enzymes, unrecognizable again. sucked up forcefully through my fathers urethra until i become a spark of passion in his eye. backing up more to where he never meets my mother.
then the reverse effect on life goes all the way to the beginning. where the earth was that lifeless filament, unspoken to, untouched by the father. reversed further, back to where time does not exist, to where we cannot understand time, where words are confusion and thoughts are all misunderstood. deep into a place where God never needed to create creatures or beings to praise him, back to even when God was content.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by ericjasongastelum

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Marta J. (booksnob) - 8/26/2011 6:00 PM ET
Wow. Wow. This is just incredibly powerful, and I think probably your best to date. I was deeply affected by it. This piece completely evokes a specific place in time, and is a real eulogy to lost innocence. Bravo!
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