The Hurricane of Fire

By Maiquipa

The Hurricane of Fire is the world according to Seth, a young schizophrenic man just trying to get by in this world. Between the job he despises, a raging crush on his best friend, and all the madness in his mind is there any room for love?

Ben seems to think so. From the first moment Ben knew that Seth was different. But is the leap of faith too great for Ben to achieve? Can Seth maintain himself and not scare Ben away? Can love survive a Hurricane of Fire?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465346100

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Copyright © 2012 by Maiquipa.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011913776

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-4609-4

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-4608-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-4610-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

The Calm

(Preface)

A Tropical Depression

(Seth)

A Tropical Storm

(Ben)

The Hurricane of Fire

Category 1

Category 2

Category 3

Category 4

Category 5

Part one: Ben’s notes or

The Storm Surge

Part Two: Seth’s notes or

The Eye Of The Storm

The Calm

(Preface)

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that you stir not up, nor awake my love, till he pleases.

-Song of Solomon 2:3-7 KJV

The pride of being in love can make you strange; strange to friends, family, even yourself. People tell you that you look different, happier. They’ll tell you that you have a glow about you. That you smile more, laugh louder and more easily. Which makes me wonder, If I was such a somber asshole before then why did these people hang out with me in the first place?

It’s true though, being in love does make you different. You do act differently. You do see things differently. And that change in outlook and attitude causes others to see you differently. So, what has changed? Are you now a complete, whole person? Were you somehow born as part of an unfinished product, waiting for your other half? How has the relationship to this other person effected your personality so much? Is it proximity? Amount of time spent together? Commonalities? A combination of these things? The totality of these things? Honestly, I don’t know.

The funny thing is that I don’t care. The reasons are moot. The logic of love is that the parts work better together than they do individually. And, often enough, love is reason; reason for why we help others, why we forsake others, why we fight, why we live and die. Love is love. It’s a self-feeding machine that will switch parts around as IT pleases. Have you ever fallen out of love with someone? Why? What changed?

The truth of love is found in the mystery of beauty. And, beauty is a subjective thing. Love can put everything into perspective and completely twist your view of reality. Love can make an atheist standing on the edge of a kiss believe that if he falls angels will catch him. Love can change the blackest and darkest of situations into a universe that shines with infinite potential. Love can make you believe that you can fly up to shatter the sun and bring down a passion that will set the world on fire. Love can change the fear of a hurricane into the thankfulness of nature giving her house a good cleaning.

Eventually you realize, though, that whether it’s before or after the storm, it’s still the calm.

A Tropical Depression

(Seth)

Seth looked at the date and time on his phone as he hit the joint, May 25, eleven-fifteen pm, he mumbled to himself. After he passed the joint to Chris he let his arm fall heavily as a sign of boredom. Chris gave Seth a slanted look as if to say, Ok, what is it? Seth sighed, This party sucks. There’re no hot guys here.

Chris passed the joint back and after a long exhale he said, So you and Jason broke-up?

It just wasn’t going anywhere with him, said Seth.

You’re too picky.

Be very careful with that, I know things about you.

They both laughed lightly and smiled into the darkness outside the party, comfortable to be silent together. Then Chris asked, So what do you want?

I want a sense of belonging.

Does that even exist?

I don’t know.

So what are you gonna do?

Go home. You?

Chris gave a smirk and said, I’m gonna go see if I can nail that blonde bitch.

—

The following night work was slow in the restaurant. Seth and Stacey were standing in the service area wiping down trays when Stacy asked, "Why did you and Jason break-up?’

I don’t know, after two months it felt like we were still on our first date.

Oh, so he’s no good in bed?

With a dissatisfied look Seth said, No, he’s just… Ok, he’s no good in bed. When he got excited he’d make this high pitched squeal. It was like being with a woman.

God forbid.

I know, right? Plus, he isn’t very masculine. Not that he’s a drag queen, but he’s no Hugh Jackman either.

What is it with you and Hugh Jackman?

Everything, said Seth with a sigh.

Chris came off the floor and walked right up between the two of them. Both looked at him as if to say, Well, spit it out! Chris gave a sarcastic look and said, That bitch at 139 is fuckin’ hot!

Stacey asked, Which?

Table 139

Stacey, "Which bitch? Oh nice. Is that the bitch’s mother sitting next to the bitch? Do you think the bitch’s mother would like you calling her daughter a bitch?"

Probably not. Unless I fuck her too.

Stacey, You really are a pig. You know that?

Come on, Stacey. I only said it to piss you off.

I know. You were just playing.

Yeah. I totally wouldn’t fuck the mom, she’s got no tits.

Stacey called Chris a pig again as she walked out. Seth shook his head and smiled, Chris chuckled to himself.

—

After leaving The Club, the two boys made their way to Seth’s apartment. When Seth stumbled through the door with Chris in tow both were laughing so hard they could hardly stand. Through the hysterical laughter Chris managed to say, Im not kidding, man. Her nipples are too far apart! They’re not in the center of her tits where they should be… like, at 45 degree angles to where they should be!

Seth dropped to his knees, gripping his stomach in laugher! Down came Chris also, kneeling on one knee and balancing himself on Seth in hysterical delight.

They gained some of their composure. Enough to get the door closed, drinks poured, and a fat bowl of pot packed. Seth asked Chris, So, are you gonna see her again?

Probably. She’s not very interesting but she’s mad-crazy in the sack!

And that’s what really matters, Seth said sarcastically.

Chris replied, You know it, just before he lit the bowl.

They worked on the bowl for a few minutes combatting the harshness of the smoke with sips from the vodka and cranberry drinks. When both were good and toasty, Chris asked, So what are you gonna do? You gonna see Jason any more?

I don’t think so. He does nothing for me.

Well, you better figure something out. I’ve known you for three years and you haven’t been with a guy for more than a couple of months.

What would you know about it? You’re out whoring around.

Yeah, but I was with Kate for over three years. How are things in your head?

Seth paused, then said, Fine, I guess. I still have a hard time telling dreams from reality, and I think people are after me or at least talking about me.

I still think you should get on medication.

Doesn’t smoking pot count?

You know what I mean.

I can handle it. Besides, you and my folks are the only ones who know I’m sick. No one else needs to know.

Chris, Maybe that’s the problem, no on else knows and you think you have to hide it. Seth, we don’t care. And besides, it would explain why you do some of the things you do. Like why is all the furniture on one side of the room? You can’t even see the TV.

Ah, but the camera in the TV can’t see me either.

You’re insane.

Want another drink?

—

In the morning light Seth stared at the phone. It rang four times before he answered. Chris’s voice, Dude, where are you? Bill’s not happy.

Seth’s voice trembled as he said, I’m sick. I’ll be in in 30 minutes.

Are you crying?

No. I’ll be there in a bit.

Hang on.

Seth put on his pants and socks while he waited for Chris who talked to the manager explaining that Seth was sick knowing that Bill would tell him to tell Seth to keep his ass at home so he doesn’t get everybody else sick too.

I’m back. I got your shift covered. I’ll be over around three-thirty to talk. Just relax and I’ll be there soon.

Ok, man. Thanks.

—

Seth looked at his phone as Chris walked to the door. He mumbled to himself, May 28, three-twenty pm. Wasn’t I supposed to do something today?

When Chris walked through the door the first thing he noticed was that the TV was buried under the couch cushions and every pillow and blanket that Seth owned. Chris looked around more, the whole apartment was askew. He turned to Seth and said, Ok, explain.

Don’t be condescending. This is my place, not yours.

Relax. I just want to know what happened.

The TV’s trying to control me.

Um, nope. It’s really not.

I was going to take it to the dumpster but then the others would see me and know that I know so they would just find a different way to control me and I’d have to start searching for cameras and microphones all over again.

Chris looked at him questioningly and said, You know you’re insane, right?

I know, but what am I gonna do?

First we’re gonna put the couch back together and talk.

They started with the couch and talked while they worked. When the couch was together Chris started to put lamps back together and urged Seth to help, just to keep him moving and talking. Once everything was as close to normal as it was going to get, Chris made two drinks and sat down on the couch next to Seth. Something has to change.

I know. But I just can’t do those meds. I did that when this was first diagnosed and the side-effects are terrible.

Worse than what you’re going through now?

Side-effects are with you all day, every day. This only happens once or twice a year. Besides, I’m not that bad.

No, most of the time you’re not. But it’s times like this that scare me. You almost threw your TV in the trash for Christ’s sake!

It’s ok. This’ll pass in a few days and I’ll be fine again.

I think you need help. How ’bout counseling?

No. They just wanna throw pills at the problem and not talk about what the real problem is. They just try to manipulate you into seeing things their way. They say they understand but they don’t.

They drank their drinks in silence for a few minutes, then Chris had an idea. You say you want to talk to someone who understands, right? Then who better to talk to than yourself?

"Are you trying to get rid of me? They lock people up for that."

Not if they don’t know you’re doing it.

That’s the problem, I’m always going on in my head and I can’t get it out. It drives me crazy!

What if you write it down? Then you’d be getting it out of your head and talking to someone who truly understand what you’re going through.

Seth considered it and said, You think it’ll work?

Try it for a month. If it’s not helping then we will sit down and think of something else. If it does help then try it for a year so you can look back on how and what you’ve changed.

I’ll think about it.

They finished the drinks and Chris said, Come on, let’s go back to my place. We’ll get super-stoned and watch The Matrix again.

I can’t go out. They’ll see me.

Don’t worry, I’ll be with you. They won’t suspect a thing.

Seth realized what he forgot. Hey! Today’s your birthday.

Yes it is.

They packed some clothes for Seth and headed out the door. Chris took Seth’s keys to lock the door. As the tumblers in the lock clicked together Seth looked at his phone and mumbled, Midnight, exactly.

—

A Tropical Storm

(Ben)

Ben looked at his phone as he sat waiting on his dealer to pass the bowl. Midnight, he thought. Then he tried to recall the name of the guy he was buying from, Bill? Bob? Bruce! That’s it, Bruce.

After he passed the bowl Bruce asked, So what’re you doing tonight, man?

I don’t know. I’ll find something to get into.

Why don’t you stay here and party with me? I have plenty of stuff and I haven’t been with a guy as hot as you in a while.

Inwardly, Ben winced, Naw. Thanks though.

He gave the dealer his money, grabbed his stash, and headed for home. When he walked into the bedroom he tossed the eight-ball baggy on his computer desk and shed his clothes. Within minutes he was setting naked in front of his computer with a bottle of baby oil and a glass pipe of crystal-meth searching for the right porn-site to fit his mood. As he sifted through sites and videos and pics he began to think. He thought of the men he’s fucked, and the ones he wanted to. Men who had fucked him and the ones who just fucked him over. As he pleasured himself to the images he would replace the actors with the the people in his mind, each depending on what was happening on the screen and his feelings toward the men he conjured-up.

Time relaxed until it slipped away completely. Six hours later he was still sitting there working out his love and hate and desire until (like being tackled by a thousand flaming angels) he shot his load over his head, onto his chest and legs, on the keyboard and floor, until he was spent. He tilted his head to the side and fell asleep in the chair.

—

A couple hours of sleeping there left him stiff and sticky. He awoke to his hand stuck to his dick with dried cum. He pried his hand free and then freed himself from the chair. After he washed his hands in the bathroom he returned to stow his pipe and dope, put away the baby oil, and clean the clear glue off everything he could find it on. Then thought to himself, I’ll take a shower then eat. If I eat first I’ll fall asleep in the shower.

He set his alarm to grab a few hours of sleep before work.

—

Awake, showered, dressed, and on the road by four-thirty, he thinks to himself how he wished he could hit his bowl before he walked in the door at work but reminded himself that you don’t carry drugs with you. You do them at home and never drive when you’re high. He thinks about his family and that they would disapprove of any drug use at all. But what do they know? They’re from the country. But I am too, how am I any different? Because I left. I had to get out, into the world. To live.

—

At 10:33 pm most of the warehouse staff was in the break-room. Ben walked through the door just in time to hear Ken (a Central Florida native with less than half his teeth and balding at the age of 22) say, Someone should kick that faggot’s ass!

Ben kept walking and said, You got a problem with faggot’s, Ken? Maybe you’re one and just trying to throw people off your scent.

Ken stood-up, walked-up to Ben’s back and said, I’ve killed men for less than that.

Ben turned and said, You shouldn’t pick your threats from old movies.

Giving Ben a slight push, Ken cocked his head to the side and said, Maybe you’re a faggot.

Ben smiled, and using all of his modest farm-boy frame slammed Ken in the chest with both hands and knocked him to the ground. In a flash, Ben was standing over Ken and said, If you wanna take this outside, we can. But I love to do two things in this world: fight and suck dick! And I guarantee if you take this outside you’ll be doing both!

The room was silent. Even Ken’s buddies were dumbstruck! Everyone stared at Ben but he simply turned to the door and headed out. Just before the door one of the women started laughing and clapping, then she yelled, You go, Ben! It’s about time someone taught that redneck some manners! Ben gave the slightest smile and kept walking. A fair bit down the warehouse he could still hear the others laughing and clapping. Ben went to his forklift and sat quietly for the rest of the break.

—

He finally got home around 2:45am. By three he was sitting on his couch in just his skivvies eating his dinner of butter-sauteed portobello mushrooms, green beans, corn-on-the-cob, and a ham and cheese on rye toast while he watched TV. He was sure it was a nature show but had no idea what it was about… . He was lost in thought:

I’ve traveled thousands of miles, left my home and family with the hope of seeing more than my little corner of the world and maybe finding something to live for. I don’t think it’s here.

—

With an honesty clearer than Metatron and a fierceness greater than death, Ben’s way of thinking is unique. A diabolically wonderful man whose face-music brings to the mind bright orange velvety flowers growing over and wrapping around razor-wire. The Gospel according to Ben is simple, but no one (not even he) could explain it. At times he has felt that his aloneness was the price that love charged him for his clarity and simplicity. At times, it seemed to him that love did not love him.

—

Ben walked-up to the employee entrance of the warehouse at his usual 4:57pm. His supervisor met him at the door when he walked in. Ben, could I see you in my office, said Vivian.

What happened in the break-room yesterday, she asked. Ben told her the whole story. That’s not the way Ken tells it, she replied. Ben simply said that Ken must be lying.

I know, said Vivian, ten other people told me how you stood-up for yourself and I, like them, am very proud of you. But, you did hit him so I have to suspend you. The employee rulebook says that I have to suspend you for five days and put the incident on your record. But, if it’s any consolation, that was Ken’s third offense, I called him and fired him before he came in. Neither happy nor sad about Ken’s fate, Ben told Vivian that he understood and thanked her for understanding too.

Ben spent the night smoking speed, masturbating, and thinking about life. For his forced vacation he decided that he would spend time at parks and the beach trying to reconnect with what little nature remained in the city.

—

Around 3pm the next day Ben was sifting through the bargain books when he heard someone in the next isle talking and then answering himself. Ben peeked around the corner to see a slim young man with a shaved head having a conversation with himself… or maybe with the books he was holding. As the conversation went on he listed the pros and cons of each book and at times appeared to be speaking for the books themselves.

Ben became lost. He could see no other thing except this man. The man’s mind was almost visible, like the cogs of a clock moving and rotating. He could see the bald fellow’s heart squirt passion to grease the gears of his mind. Ben wished he could say hi but didn’t want to interrupt what was truly poetry in motion.

It could have been one minute, it could have been an hour but eventually the shaved one took the chosen book to the check-out counter. Ben rushed outside with a mind to talk to this man, but