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It is now the day after yesterday. Yesterday being the day of Samhain, more commonly known as Halloween. I wish you all a wonderful and prosperous New Year. I hope your ancestors came to visit and that you were well prepared. Our young man enjoys this holiday. Its his favorite of all his holidays.
He celebrated this year in a set of robes. Purple, black, and green robes of a very fine clothe. Really the outfit was a pair of black pants and a black shirt with a small trench coat like cloak in green and a huge cloak of the same style that nearly engulfed him made in deep purple. He smiled and laughed, set a bonfire and drank. And even worse, even more horrible than all of these things, he made a friend. I surprised myself I'll admit and this occurrence gives me enough occasions to forego the previous plan to tell the tragedy of the past for now. First I will tell the Tragi-Comedy of the present.
Our young man, and since you know him well enough now I'll let out that his name is Griffith, happened to be the victim of a party that his younger sister was throwing for Halloween. His clothing was last minute and something that the sister had thrown at him as he attempted to leave his room in favour of the parlour. Not that he resented it. The clothing had belonged to him once and since had been abducted by the sibling to use as a witch costume. The degradation of religion turned into a farce, it had made his heart bleed.
Gladdened at the return of the outfit, he quickly dressed in it and changed his thick orange-tinted glasses for a pair with thin crooked wire frames. These had a slight blue tint to protect his eyes from light when it isn't too strong and the frames were painted black and orange. Dressed he made his way downstairs.
Once at the bottom he made his way through prone bodies and amorous couples into the kitchen, having just decided he was hungry. Here he was assaulted by a group of half-naked girls. They giggled and made highly unwelcome overtures that only proved him more and more uncomfortable among his sibling's people. She, his sibling and the Queen of these twisted and sweat-drenched people, swooped down and pulled the girls away in one massive group. Since young Griffith has a strong aversion to members of the opposite sex, especially when they've decided he is their next nightly screw, he was very grateful to her.
He ate, pizza, candy, a few small cupcakes. Griffith is really not one to have much of an appetite. His diet is unimportant, except for a chocolate cupcake he was eating as he moved through the crowds of people. With the volumes that had somehow squeezed into their small home Griffith wondered how his mother had ever given her permission for this event. His brain immediately supplied an answer by informing him that his mother was visiting their father in Oklahoma that week and she would not be home for several days.
With this information in mind Griffith glanced around and pitied his sisters for the mess they would be cleaning up later. Or rather his sister, the elder would never stoop to clean even if she was spending her good share of time getting completely wasted. But Griffith was still on a mission to reach the parlour, his sacred space. It was a small room that had actually once been a walk in closet. Griffith had cleaned it out and turned it into a small shrine that he simply called the parlour to deter people from actually entering it.
He reached the room that contained the door and soon discovered a couple passed out on top of each other blocking the door. With a sigh he bent down from his knees and attempted to wake the boy sprawled on top of the girl. It was a vain attempt and it wasn't more than two seconds before young Griffith gave up. He started to stand and found to his surprise that someone was moving backwards very quickly across the room towards him. And to his even greater surprise that said person was unable to stop his backwards movement by any other means than using Griffith as a wall and thereby felling our young man.
Griffith fell, landed on top of the boy on the floor. He hit his head against the door of his parlour and at the same time managed to get cupcake icing in his hair, of all places. He groaned, resigning himself to the laughter that would inevitable come. Eyes closed, one hand pressed against the back of his head he felt for any sign he'd smacked his head hard enough to get a concussion. Words interrupted him, "Are you alright?" Confused Griffith looked up at another young man of about his age who was holding out a hand to help Griffith up. It happened to be the same young man that had just knocked him over. Yet another surprise. He nodded to the question having ascertained that he had no concussion and had acquired no other wounds. The young man standing over him laughed and reached down, picked up Griffith's hand and hauled him to his feet.
The young man standing in front of Griffith made him do a double take. First off the boy was dressed much like he was. And secondly he was nothing like any of his sister's other friends. At least he didn't seem that way, mainly because he wasn't drunk. He had black hair and brown eyes, typical for most people. He was of an entirely different breed than most of the boys in the room, except for Griffith himself. He wasn't big or buff, in fact the boy look anemic and possibly anorexic. But before Griffith could greet him the young man had caught sight of someone on the other side of the living room and dragged Griffith out the front door and into the street which was by now filled with cars belonging to the party goers inside.
"Um." Griffith was not used to such treatment. No one dragged him anywhere, ever. No one had any reason to want to take him anywhere. The young man looked at him with a rather broad grin and let him go with a wave starting to walk away down the street.
The baffled sound emitted from Griffith's mouth once again. The young man stopped walking and turned eyeing Griffith as he did so. "Thanks for saving me from the slut brigade. You wanna come for a walk." And it was as simple as that. Those words had Griffith walking down the street with this young man he didn't really know in the middle of the night.
It turned out that the young man's name is Josh. He's not really a friend of the sister's, only someone out looking for kicks and happened to stumble across the party. He'd gotten more than he'd bargained for going inside considering he just happened to be gorgeous (according to himself) and most of the girls were too trashed to remember they were supposed to hate him.
Griffith didn't have to say much to keep the conversation going. Josh was more than willing to talk to Griffith about anything and everything putting Griffith under the impression that the young man may have been under the influence of one of his sister's drugs.
None of this bothers me. My silence doesn't bother him. And he spoke to me again this morning. What could have been a passing fling, a spur of the moment thing, or a charity case has turned out to be a very interesting person. I can't wait to see him tomorrow, he's very interesting to listen to. And that's at the very very least.