Category: Blog

Starboard – Chapter 4

September 29th, 2022

It is a hot Saturday afternoon in July when Insomnia man steps into a hot shower. Typically, on hellish days like these, he prefers the refreshing feel of a cold shower after his workout, but today, his mind needed to escape for a moment. Standing in the center of the shower, he feels how the hot beads of water pelt the back of his neck and wrap around his mountain like trapezoids. His terracotta skin, particularly sensitive to touch, feels how the beads of water gradually lose temperature as they stream through the plateaus and canyons on his body. Standing there, his mind to wander unrestraint, but his upcoming voyage, washes over all other thoughts, with the rhythmic frequency of ocean tides erasing footprints on the sand. Eventually his head hangs low, and his eyes become fixated on the shower drain, observing the water droplets as they fall of his chin only to join the water that swirls around the pitch-black hole in between the green tendrils rising from the tops of his feet.

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Thud, Thud, Thud. “Hey Pablo, are you done in there?! I gotta take a shower too!” Like the siren of a lighthouse advising vessels of land ahead through the fog, the reverberating voice snaps Pablo out of his daze. With both hands he scrubs his face with the water then tosses his dark brown hair wavy hair back.

– “Alright, alright! I’ll be out in a minute.” Pablo calmly answers back. Pivoting the silver shower lever to the off position, he stands in the middle of the shower and listens as the water, changes in pitch, while it swirls down the drain. With the last of the water gone, he opens the glass shower door, and reaches for a towel to lightly dab himself dry, only leaving behind a thin veil of water on him. Carefully, he steps out of the shower and onto a beige shower rug, which provides some friction against the aqua blue hexagonal tile. Fanning his toes open, the strands of rug capture the water droplets caught between them, while stalagmites reach up to capture the moisture underneath the cavernous sole. Once semi dry, he walks over to the counter, between him and the steamed mirror is a bottle of baby oil which he squirts onto his chest, legs and arms before rubbing it in and dabbing dry. His obscured silhouette glistening in the mirror as the light coming in from the frosted window highlights his naked body. Upon finishing, he uses the towel to wipe the steam off the mirror at eye level. His amber eyes lock onto themselves, as he loosely wraps the towel around his hips.

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Thud, thud, thud. “You done in there?!” the voice asks.

– “Yea, I’m done.” Pablo responds as he breaks contact with the mirror and reaches towards the door handle to open. Across the threshold is a young man with hazel eyes and thick long brown eyebrows that serve as a parasols to his big eyes. Light purple rings enshroud the sockets of his eyes against the beige tone of his diamond face. With an elbow on the frame and hand shaking his freshly faded, short cropped chestnut hair he stares back at Pablo and snickers back.

– “Took you long enough.” He says, through the light blond stubble on his hollowed cheeks.

– “Whaaatttt. C’mon now, you don’t need that much time, it won’t take more than a second for you to shave off that peach fuzz you call a beard” Pablo retorts. Crossing the bathroom sill, he lightly strikes the young man against the shoulder causing him to stumble back a bit.

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– “Thaaat’s it!” The young man exclaims, as he raises his hands reaching behind his back. “You wanna go, ooold man?!” Pulling his arms forward, his loose-fitting white undershirt, begins to rise revealing a midriff that looks like it was carved from marble. At 6’2” the young man is taller than Pablo by four inches and is in peak athletic condition.

– “Baaah!” Pablo scoffs, brushing him off with a hand gesture. “You are going to need to settle, all the way the fuck down, pendejo!” deepening his voice. “I’m sure your balls have not even dropped yet for you to have this much bravado.” Pablo, with hand extended outward in front of him, bobs it slightly up and down, as if he were manually gauging the weight of a cantaloupe, he then proceeds, “You honestly think you can take your old man on and win?” Tightening the towel around his waist, Pablo’s stance changes, his feet widen past his hips, with one leg anchoring back while the other comes forward towards the young man, causing the three heads of the quads to peaks through slit of the towel curtain. Pablo slightly lowers his shoulders causing the core to tighten, the silver hairs on his abdomen, roll in together like sea foam over a pebble beach.

– “The senior captain of the wrestling team is always ready for a challenge!” The young man proudly proclaims, light pounding on the left pec, the shirt settles back down below his waist.

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– “Captain?” Pablo’s own machismo quickly recedes “You made captain?” continues in a more inquisitive and prouder tone.

– “Yeah. I challenged the, now former captain, Ben, for the spot on the last day of summer training camp.

– “Ben? Ben? Ben?” Pablo looks down at the wooden floor while trying to recall the name. “Ben? As in, Arthur and Patty’s kid, the one who got into a D2 school for wrestling?” Pablo asks.

– “Yeah. That’s the one.” the young man responds

– “That’s my boy!” without thinking, Pablo steps his back leg towards the young man and wraps his arms around him. “Nice work, Connor!” he says, patting him lightly on the back.

– “Thaaanks.” Connor responds softly as he cringes from the hug.

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Feeling how Connor’s body recoils within his embrace, Pablo moves one of his hands to Connor’s shoulder and steps back. “I’m super proud of you, mijo!” he says, gently squeezing the shoulder. Letting go of Connor, Pablo walks towards to the master bedroom and continues talking, “Aside from making Captain for the wrestling team how’s school, life?” slightly raising his voice as the distance between Pablo and Connor increase. “Since you were off at camp while I’ve been docked, I didn’t get much of a chance to see you.”

– “Yeah I know, it’s been good, there was a minor quake a couple weeks back that rattled everyone at camp though.” Connor responds, “How long will you be home?” he ask cautiously.

-“You felt that too huh. I felt it here as well, news report said it was a 3.2 quake.” Pablo says while rummaging through master closet. “Not much longer, we leave tomorrow.”

-“For how long?”

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-“It’s a short trip this time, if all goes well, we are looking at 3-4 weeks and only about 150 nautical miles out to sea.” He says as he steps out of the closet, with an olive-green jumper in hand.

“Oh…” The lighthouse’s sirens wails in opposite direction to the vessel and goes unheard as it begins to drift back out to sea. “Well, I’ve made plans to celebrate with friends my new role in the wrestling team by cooking out later tonight” Conner continues, as he steps into the master bedroom. “Maybe you can make that famous arrachera with the chimichurri sauce of yours” The lighthouse sirens pitch picks up again, in hopes of attracting the vessel to shore.

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“That’s awesome! I’ll try to get out of the pre-departure meeting sooner today, just buy the skirt-steak and I’ll make it when I get back” he says, while sliding on the leg portion of the olive jumper underneath the towel. Once the jumper is at waist level, he tosses the damp towel away into a hamper, and lets the top portions suspend down around the waist. His dense peppered bush peaks out briefly from behind the unzipped jumper before being powdered and tussled around for a bit. Zipping up the rest the jumper, he stops midway up the chest, bringing focus to the ravine nestled between his chest. Standing before the mirror in the master bedroom, he adjusts the collar and brushes off some lint covering the embroidery on the tag of his upper left chest. Looking into the mirror he glances at longhand embroidery that reads, Castillo, underneath it, in bold, diver and engineer.
Starboard – Chapter 2

June 21st, 2022

The sound of the spritz coming from the aromatic diffuser snaps him out of his concentration. Lifting his Burberry, green and cream marble-colored glasses up and away from his eyes, he set them to rest at the top of his head: pinning the medium length straight jet-black hair, back against his head. With a deep inhale, he brings his thumb and middle finger towards his eyes and gently rubs them in a circular motion over his closed eyelids. He wraps up the brief massage by applying firm pressure just above the bridge of his nose and in between his eyebrows, with the aid of his pointer finger. Opening his eyes once more, the pupils dilate against the hazel and amber iris, attempting to bring the letters on the screen before him into focus. Unfortunately, without his glasses, the letters will never come into focus, exhaling he brings the glasses back down to sit on the bridge of his nose and sees the screen clearly once more. Moving the cursor down to the bottom of the screen, he brings up the task bar so that he may take peak at the time on the bottom right corner of the screen. 2:30 AM, it reads.

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Pushing himself away from his desk, he reclines back on his soft padded chair, arching his lower back in the process. Gently activating the muscles that hug the upper spine, he brings his arms towards the ceiling, clasps his fingers together with his palms facing out for a deep seated stretch. Holding the stretch, his eyes begin to water, his jaw unclenches as he lets out a bellowed growl. Bringing his hands back down slowly his elbows come to stop at shoulder height and he protrudes his chest forward unleashing a yawn so deep that his nose begins to run and eyes start to tear up.

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Wiping the freshly formed tears that had formed around his tired eyes, he looks around at his room so that his eyes can focus on objects of different distances. The edges of white walls are illuminated with deep pink and purple hues while the center of the wall has an ocean blue. Combined with a star field galaxy filter, the living room wall look as if he was peering into deep space. Taking a deep breath, he swivels back towards his desk and the soft warm yellow light, emanating from an adjustable led bar above his monitor, grounds him once more. But before he resumes his studies, he glances towards the balcony door and like a moth to a flame the lights from the city call out to him.

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From his mountain side condo, the view of the city below him has always brought a sense of peace. Tonight, bathed under the white light of the full moon, the silhouette of the skyscrapers stands out against the shimmering backdrop of pacific black ocean. Outside on his balcony, he takes in the smell of the summer night with a breath so deep his torso grows. Leaning on the rails of the balcony, his upper torso extends out into the abyss as he savors the view of the night. The serenity of the moment comes to an end when a vehicle pulls up and parks below his balcony five stories below. Like an owl perched in its nest, he presses his round glasses back towards his face and silently watches as the driver exits the vehicle and walks around to open the rear passenger door. The driver, anchoring his lower body to the grounds, reaches into the jeep and with a bellowed grunt. hoists another man out with hand their hands locked together. Dressed in denim jeans and a simple white tee the man is pulled out from the rear seat of the Jeep. Immediately upon exiting he hunches over and fills the silent street with the sound of viscous liquid crashing onto concrete. Under the cover of darkness and the cool of the night, sound can travel great distances.

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“You sure you’re ok” the driver asks the man with the white tee. The man with the white tee holds out his arm and simply raises his thumb. “I don’t know man, you don’t look that good” he says in a concerned tone as he places his hand on white tee’s shoulders, “I think I’m just going to crash on your sofa and make sure you choke on your own vomit tonight”. White tee shakes his head no and begins to flutter his hand, as if he was waving off a bug, when another round of vomit is unleashed from his bowels. “I guess I’m spending the night”. The driver slings white tee’s arm around his shoulder and the two men walk into the apartment complex.

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With the commotion having come to an end, the owl recedes back into his nest. Walking past his desk, his stomach guides him right into the kitchen. Hanging on the fridge door is an unopened letter from his father. Owl keeps it there on the fridge so that he can remember to open it as soon as finals have finished. His attention is solely focused on scoring the highest possible grade and does not what be distracted with the contents of the letters in the moment. Opening the refrigerator’s door, he reaches in and grabs a left-over sandwich from earlier in the day. Sitting up on the granite kitchen countertop he lets his legs drape the side of the counter as he nibbles on the sandwich and glares at the letter. An unease builds within him, and his appetite gets suppressed, letting the sandwich sit on the counter he reaches begins to make his way back out to the balcony to try and find serenity once more.

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The sliding balcony door, covered with raindrops from the storm that had just rolled by, diffuses the traffic lights with red, greens and yellows across its plane. The contrast in lighting between the outdoor cityscape and the interior lighting causes his reflection to emerge on the glass, as he walks towards the patio door. On his left side his upper chest and front ribcage is highlighted pink lighting, the lateral and ocean blue and the low lights a deep purple. The soft amber light coming from his desk bring forth his right upper chest and lateral side, light fades as travels further down his body causing the reflection to be weak in those areas and cityscape’s light shine through. His reflection, full of color and small specs of outside lights looks like that of celestial beings written about in the past.

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He steps outside once again when he notices the lights of the apartment in front of him two stories below are on. Again, he observes in silence from his perch, the two men, now both covered in white tee’s vomit are in the pad two stories below his. The driver proceeds to undress the man in denim, in the living room, as white tee’s head just rest on the driver’s shoulder. Both men shuffle around the pad as the driver undresses white tee. As owl stalks the men, he can feel his own pulse begin to quicken, as blood rapidly flows throughout his body. The light in the bedroom turns on next and the driver thrust white tee on the bed like a rag doll, the driver then takes white tee’s shoes and socks off and slips the jeans off him leaving him naked on the king size bed. The driver then heads to the living room, picks three of the couch cushions, returns to the bedroom and tosses them onto floor. White tee, now fully naked, is laying on the bed face down and the driver proceeds then covers him up with the duvet. Owl is now body temperature has risen and and sweat precipitates on his skin as his body covets contactThe driver then undresses himself down to his boxers and heads over to the wall and lights in the apartment shut off.

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Once again owl returns into his nest but this time he is aroused. He walks over to the computer and types in a chat roulette site. Instantly the site loads, Owl clicks through the prompts and a live feed comes through. On the square feed above his own feed, is a sweaty man in soaked blue navy shorts. The sweat, glistening off abdomen and trailing down the Adonis belt attract Owl eye to the man’s bulge. No foreplay this this time, Owl’s deep voice cracks throughout the room as he says “Drop the shorts”.

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Starboard – Chapter 1

March 25th, 2022

Starboard – Chapter 1 Podcast – If this reaches 50 plays I’ll read the next chapter

Even though he tried to hide himself from the incandescent orange light emanating from the streetlamp outside his living room window, the light still flooded the room as if they were beams projected from a lighthouse. The warm breeze coming in through an opened window, made the sheer curtains gently billow up, diffusing the incoming light in such a way that the shadows in the living room waxed and waned. Permeating through his closed eyelids, a tinge of dark orange was detected by the cones and rods in the back of his eyes transmitting a signal to his brain. The brain, then processed that signal as: light is still present, therefore, sleep is not required. He tossed and turned, yawned and counted sheep but achieving a mere lucid dream was a fool’s gold.

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Time, ever in such a hurry, did not stop for him to catch up to sleep: 15 minutes of shifting around, became 30 minutes, and 30 minutes became an hour. After waking from his second lucid dream, he defeatedly pulls the sheet away from his bare trimmed chest. Laying on the sofa, with a hand under his head he listens to the chirping of crickets outside and for the next couple of minutes, he lays there in stillness looking at the popcorn ceiling of his living room. His eyes eventually fixated on a spot on ceiling causing the peripheral vision to fade to black, snapping out his light trance, he began to debate internally if he should just get up or not. With some slight effort he rolls onto his side, reaches for his phone on the floor tapping the screen to wake it from its slumber. The blue light from the screen quickly reacts displaying the time for him, 3:15 AM. With a deep inhale, he mutters to himself – “Up we go” -because of his relaxed windpipe the vibrations reverberate within his torso upon exclamation. Sitting upright, he has surrendered sleep to the dead of the night.

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In the dull glow of the ember hued light, ripples of shadows are cast against his upright back. At the center, a deep gorge of saturated black extends from north of shoulder blades to south in between his glutes. Pivoting his body from the spot on the couch he swings his legs out and around so that his feet make contact with the cool wood flooring. The sheet that he used to fully cover himself while attempting to sleep now only drapes part of the upper thigh, trimmed bush and shaft. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees as his hands, neck, and head, all succumb to gravity. In between the balls and heels of his feet are cavernous blacks that swallow all light, the veins on the top of his feet cast their own faint shadows like the rolling mounds of a prairie. In silence he looks down at his feet, all ten toes spread out and for brief second believes he can hear to blood circulating within his body.

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Another deep breath, another thought has come and gone, but this time, he places his hands on his knees and pushes himself up from the couch and up to stand. Fully standing, he raises both his hands overhead and gently stretches side to side. Highlights illuminate the lateral parts of his body as the rest remains cloaked in darkness. Tapping his phone screen awake once again, the time now reads 4:05 AM. “I’ll just workout”, he whispers to himself. Carefully he begins to walk around the house, even though there is enough light to denote the rough outline of objects, without his glasses he is virtually blind at night. Each stride forward is led by gently placed padded step, thereby, ensuring minimal creaking sound from the hardwood floors. Making his way up the stairs, he passes by some pictures of happier times that have long past, the smiles on those face have faded away and are only accessible now by memory or the elusive dream. When he gets to the landing, he can hear the soft rhythmic snoring coming from two bedrooms, both with doors shut tight.

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Padding past the short hallway he passes more pictures hanging on the wall, some of which, he is not in a part of and has no recollection taking place. When he gets to the door at the end of the hallway, he quietly twists the knob and lifts the door off the hinges, so they do not squeal upon his entrance. There, on a king size mattress, lays a mass covered from head to toe with a duvet. From it, a soft snore can be heard as the center of the mass is plane, rises and falls, between each audible snore. Quietly, he makes his way to the dresser, pulls out a pair of navy blue running shorts and proceeds to slip one foot through a leg opening at time. With one quick motion he pulls them up and around the waist, he follows up that motion by inserting his hand down the front of the shorts and adjusting his manhood from the interior lining of the shorts. Once on, he returns back to where he came from.

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At the bottom of the stairs he heads to the kitchen and quietly opens a sliding door to the back yard. 10 meters away, across blades of grass covered in dew is a shed that has been converted to a workout/office space. Barefoot crosses the threshold and step out onto the patio, with his steps no longer limited by the noise he makes his stride quickens. The damp concrete against the soles of his feet awakens him further but moist grass reinvigorates him. At the shed’s door he punches the key code in and lets himself in, motion sensing lights instantly turn on and illuminate the shed. Thanks to its 12 foot ceiling, it serves perfectly as a workout area. Even though it’s a hot summer night, he still cranks up the heat in the shed to 90 degrees Fahrenheit to maximize the amount of sweat produced. The floor itself is padded from wall to insulated wall allowing him to make a lot of noise with very little noise escaping to the outside. Within minutes the temperature hit 90 and he begins a 45 minute animal flow session.

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Drenched in sweat, he sits on the padded floor of the shed with his arms propped up by his knees. His eyes scan the small workout space and that when the see that his laptop is sitting on a corner desk. Pushing off the floor with one arm he lifts himself up and walks towards the laptop to open it. Hovering over the keyboard he places the cursor on the address bar and types in an address. The screen become white momentarily then a prompt emerges onscreen: Are you male or female? He moves the cursor and clicks on male. The screen is filled with a white text box area and on the left side of the screen are two black squares. Another prompt appears on the screen: allow access to camera and mic? Approve or Deny. He moves the cursor to approve and clicks on it, instantly a very small light turns on by the web camera exposing his sweaty torso on the bottom left box of the screen. In the center of the chat area, is a giant red button that reads START, it lays in wait to be clicked but, before he does, he adjusts the angle of the camera so that everything below his neck to his knees is in frame. Stepping a couple of feet back he clicks start and the first image comes in and a complete stranger, confined to a box on the screen directly above his, appears before him. Instantly, an ellipsis appears on the chat partition of the screen, gently pulsating as the newly welcomed guest to the shed types, it is then replaced by text with a single line command “Drop the shorts”. With the aid of the stored of the sweat the shorts quickly fall down his legs as the soaked fabric splats down around his ankles.

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From the second story window of his house the blue glow of the monitor screen is visible through the privacy frosted shed window. The sound of the metal hooks brushing against the metal rod as the curtains are quickly closed disrupts the high-pitched silence of the house.

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Starboard – Prolugue

March 25th, 2022

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Category: Blog

Starboard – Chapter 4

Starboard – Chapter 2

Starboard – Chapter 1

Starboard – Prolugue