Ugly Beautiful (24 page)

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Before anyone starts feeling sorry for me, let me just say that I am not a nice guy. I want to get that out there into the polluted airwaves from the beginning. I mean, I'm not an utterly insane, mind fuck, George Bush/Tony Blair, mass murderer of millions and a shit pit of festering evil. Nor am I anywhere near the peak of Mother Theresa's rich, heavenly, Mount Everest of eternal goodness. I'd like to think of myself on the just below sea level mark on that particular scale. If I'd been born a country, then I'd like to have been Serbia. Stuffed with a few deeply rooted rugged charms and not a complete and total fuck up loss to humanity by any means, just 'not a nice guy' when it came to people. Especially relations and feelings with people of the more feminine kind. Although, recently, I had been trying. I really had. I battled constantly with this confliction more and more as the days rolled by. Like, the more I aged, the worse of an arsehole I moulded myself into. In all fairness, it was just too damn easy to be an arsehole in this day and age. But an arsehole who, deep down inside, wanted nothing better in life than to settle with his own demons. To be completely devoted and faithful to one woman and one woman only. A woman whom I loved whole heartedly and she loved me, without all the other mind trap, relationship bullshit games, getting in the way.

I thought a lot about living in a house that filled me with pride, in a suburb and city that I wasn't ashamed to call home. A home I'd be able to speak fondly and openly of some day while chatting with like
minded strangers on a family holiday abroad. Yes, this was what I dreamed about sometimes in the darkest hours of the night. A good life and a good home, surrounded by gardens, flowers, and freshly cut green fields. Surrounded by friends, family, and children that I adored with all my heart, who adored me in equal measures too. But for some people, life doesn't quite pan out like that. And the longer you resist putting off this comfort and happiness and fantasy bullshit of a good life, the harder it becomes with each passing day to find it again. To accept it and finally come to peace with it, before letting go of all your insecurities and grasping it with all your heart, passion, soul, and desire.

Lately, I'd been coming to terms with the fact that I would most certainly die alone some
day. And way before I'd ever been diagnosed with this untreatable brain cancer inconvenience. Yes, dying alone. Like some sad, old, lonely sex-crazed fool, with no friends, wife, children, or family to call my own. All I seemed to care about was where my next shag was coming from. This insatiable lust, which had infected my body and soul ever since my very first sexual awakening in my teenage years. A guilty lust which felt far worse than any incurable physical decease. Some days I woke up in the morning and felt, deep within my bones, that I
could be truly happy with just one special someone in my life. Someone to love, protect, and come home to at night, cuddling up on the couch with and spending free time. A reason to get up in the morning. A reason to live and fight onwards and upwards.

On some rare occasions, I even longed to find that perfect someone who could make me want to be a better man. But alas, I knew it was useless and just prolonging the inevitable, because if I ever finally found that perfect someone and spilt my seed deep inside her soul and everything felt good and perfect for that short singular orgasmic heartbeat, trapped inside that perfectly wrapped, bubbled moment of harmony for one priceless and meaningful second, only to realise that there was no such thing as a perfect compatible soul mate after all and that dark, sinking, loneliness would eventually consume me and my feelings for her, just like everyone else who'd come and gone before her. Ultimately it would all disappear, fading away like dusk from dawn. Evaporating into thin air, faster than a steam of hot piss in a frozen winter field, like those feelings always did. Always. And I, once more, would begin to long for something different, someone new. The never-ending monotonous circle of my daily life. That addictive chase for a new day. A new dawn. The grass is always greener...

I knew at the heart of this mental affliction I was what some might call a 'Selfish Narcissistic Prick'. Sex had always been a weakness and downfall too. I knew I needed sex a lot, and with as many different partners who'd give themselves willingly to my cause as possible. It had always been quantity over quality for me over the years, that's for damn sure. And maybe that's the problem? Who knew. Certainly not I. I didn't really believe it mattered if someone were that perfect one for me any longer. I really didn't. I knew I had this other horrible terminal lustful cancer embedded deep within my soul, and it was only spreading further and deeper through my veins with every new notch I claimed. This need, want, urge, curse…this longing. This goddamn disease which would absolutely be the end of me even before the real cancer would ever have its wicked way. I needed to fuck. I wanted to fuck all the time and with as many different women as I possibly could. Christ, didn't all heterosexual, red-blooded males want the same when you got down to the bare-knuckled nitty-gritty of it. I just didn't act upon it as much as I'd like to anymore, that's all. Maybe settling into a comfortable suburban lifestyle and approaching middle age had finally grasped a hold of my balls and was slowly squeezing the final droplets of lust and zest for life right out of me.

But at the other end of that scale, I'd also considered cutting my own damn balls off just to spite the suffering and finally live that so-called normal life. To end this cursed pleasurable and insatiable torment. But I was too weak…too goddamn weak to do it. Or then again, in hindsight, maybe I wasn't weak after all! Maybe I was just a man.

Sarah Smiles

After moving with his military father to a new foreign land, a quiet teenage boy struggles to fit into his new life until he meets the mysterious and pretty, tomboy, Sarah, who opens his eyes up to a whole new world filled with fun, drama, tragedy, romance and adventure.

Chapter 1

It was the late nineteen eighties and my family had just moved to the South east coast of Cyprus for a two year posting from England. My Dad worked for the British army, Six Two Cyprus support squadron of the Royal Engineers to be exact. So it wasn't a surprise to find myself travelling from one part of the world to the other every few years.

I remembered it was hot there. Volcano hot. And during our time living on the Island most of the people wore only shorts and T shirts no matter what the occasion or time of day, well, everyone except the poor army soldiers of course. They had to wear their full uniform of trousers, boots and military overalls pretty much every hour of the day, unless instructed otherwise, regardless of the weather.

Even the delicious ice creams down at the Cesac beach had to be devoured just as soon as the ice-cream man had scooped the frozen goodness out of its freezer home, or else you'd quickly find the melting contents of the wafer cone dripping all the way down your fingers, hands and wrists, and before you knew it you'd be licking warm, sticky, melted ice cream goo from the tips of your elbows.

It was my fourth day in Cyprus and my first day at Dhekelia's, King Richard Secondary School. I was a little nervous to say the least. First days at new schools should only be a terrifying ordeal for most kids twice in their lives. Once on the first day of primary school and again on the first day of secondary school. For army brats it's a real regular pain in the arse occurrence. And in my short thirteen year lifespan on this Earth this was to be my fourth, first day at a new school and my second first day at a secondary school.

I was paraded in front of my new classmates by the adorable Mrs Pointon. My new class teacher. She was a lovely, yet very tall and intimidating old lady in her mid-fifties. Who always dressed incredibly pretty and colourful for her age in long flowing summer dresses of yellow, light blue and pink. So finding myself up there on my little pedestal at the head of the class, right in front of my new fellow classmates, was made all the more bearable by this friendly, all smiling, very tall, old lady. I wasn't a skinny or slim kid in my school days by any means. Yet I certainly wasn't a fat child either. I had a slightly broad shouldered physique as my mother delicately used to put it and a particularly good build for front row rugby as my father would proudly say.

'Good morning, class. I hope you all had a fantastic weekend away from school while of course managing to complete your homework assignments. Your brief summary and thoughts on the book we finally finished reading last Friday 'Of Mice and Men',' bellowed Mrs. Pointon in the most radiant, delightful and positive of tones.

'Yes, Miss,' echoed the majority of the class.

'Well, boys and girls,' she continued, clasping her hands together in a bout of joy. 'This morning we have the most delightful of surprises for you all. A brand new class mate. Everybody, I'd like to introduce to you Liam Francis. Liam and his family have recently moved to Cyprus all the way over from Andover in England. Liam's father is in the British army with the Royal Engineers. So I would like everyone to give Liam a big, warm, happy and friendly welcome to our school.'

I cringed with embarrassment on the spot. The majority of my new classmates, whose curious eyes and full attentive stares were upon me, groaned out a half-hearted welcome attempt in unison. 'Hello, Liam.'

For the majority of the time I'd been standing there, I'd pretty much kept my head and eyes firmly rooted to the ground. I didn't want to make any unnecessary eye contact with anyone. I agonisingly waited in an embarrassed emotional turmoil state to have this charade finally over and done with. I wanted so badly to just skulk away to the back of the class and erase myself from my new fellow classmates
'
memories forever. Yet as they welcomed me with their half assed manner, for some reason I raised my head upwards to meet their wide eyed giggles and curious stares, and when I did, well - You could've knocked me sideways with an ice cream space rocket and I still wouldn
'
t have believed I'd been standing up straight in that moment.

It was the first time I happened to lay eyes upon her. The pretty, pony tailed, Latino looking brunette with the dark tanned skin, weary eyes and tomboyish persona. She was the only pupil in class not paying any attention to me in the slightest. Instead, she stared dreamily out of the classroom window with a sad and distant expression upon her face. In that moment I became captivated by her angelic beauty and oblivious like presence that I would've done anything to catch a quick and forbidden glimpse into those thoughts that were making her look so glum.

'I think you should sit down beside Michael for the time being.' Miss said, breaking my train of thoughts and directing my attention towards a lean, mean and athletic looking man-boy machine sitting about five rows up. He had a double desk all to himself right in the middle of the class room.

'You two should have a lot to talk about as Michael's Dad is also in the forces.'

Mrs. Pointon edged me onwards to sit down beside the mean looking boy. He stared at me like I'd just plopped out from the stinky bowels of a dog's backside. I slowly approached the empty seat beside him and sat down.

'How's it going, chunk?' Were the first words out of his mouth. I knew there and then I was never going to like this man-child.

'Hi. My name's Liam.' I said determined, but inside I was bricking it. Everything about this boy terrified me from his mean looking scowl and brooding deep tan to his six inch height advantage over me and muscular athletic physique. Gees, was this guy really the same age as me and all the other kids here? Or was he one of those rare types you always heard about in other schools whose genes and rapid growth rate completely excelled everyone else's. He looked like an athletic freak of nature for his age.

'Make's no odds to me. You're still chunky, chunk!' Michael replied with a snarling sneer. Mrs. Pointon clapped her hands together loudly gaining everyone's attention. She even brought the pretty Sarah's sad and dream like gaze back in from the outside world.

'Right then, class!' Mrs. Pointon said. Her voice and body language had taken on a much firmer and disciplined role to her recent friendly little old lady charms. 'Take out your textbooks and turn to page five.'

Most of the pupils began flicking through their books. Others riffled through their rucksacks in search for them.

'Liam! You can share books with Michael for today, please, until we get you one of your own.'

'Miss! How's that fair?' Michael protested, completely over dramatic and griping out like some spoiled brat. 'What if he gets hungry and starts eating my pages?'

The whole class erupted with laughter. I sat shocked, horrified, while everyone laughed at me.