|Chapter 32 (Gratissimum)
It was a warm Friday afternoon, August 21, 1970. I was getting over a mild case
of the flu and had come downstairs for a glass of Hi-C. Hearing a noise from afar,
I peered through the curtains to see a female figure bringing her belongings into
the long-abandoned house across the street. I decided it was time to investigate.
Not knowing that by doing so would be the moment my life would change forever.
The day I saw Harmony.
It was a beautiful day and as the gentle wind touched her hair, I could tell
she was unequivocally the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my short
lifetime. Standing at a little over five feet, she had a Mediterranean complexion
which seemed to intensify her jet-black hair. With a red sequin blouse perfectly
accentuating every part of her amber skin, I immediately noticed she had
the most adorable little beauty mark right below her left eye.
This is the story of Charles and Harmony.
A work I finished in 2008 and kept in a safe place. Of late did my lover revisit
me in a dream, explaining to me the world needed to read ‘our book.’ Telling
me it was the dangerous hour, and that I would understand in time. Against
my better judgment, I acquiesced. Harmony’s request would be granted. . .
But still, you may come to raise that infernal question as to why our love would be
so revealing? Selfishly, it is because the book was written for the author first, and
the reader second. It was never my intention for anyone to follow us on our journey,
neither was it my will for them to partake in the indulgence of our intimacies.
I won’t candy-coat it, and I won’t pretend that it’s something it’s not. It will get
erotic; of this you can be assured, but it will always remain true. Before I even
began this endeavor, I knew I needed to develop my own singular style of writing
to which I would perfect until all flaws were removed from the document.
As far as exposing our love to an audience of people, who are only in
attendance for the lure of a good story, we will not disappoint them.
Still, no matter how intricately woven the words interconnect to convey
our message, people of all age groups should still be able to digest
the storyline and comprehend its intended meaning.
Aside from her physical attributes, I was enthralled in the very makeup of her own
individual characteristics. So appealing was this lady to my senses! How a gentle
woman with unembellished beauty could mesmerize my world and take hold of my
very soul, was the mystery of mysteries for me at the time. Unbeknownst to her,
she had gone as far as to open my eyes up to feelings so unique and incredibly
real, that I would literally revel in the thought of waking up in the morning!
Within the context of this book, the heart of the admirer shall come forth.
Rewritten from actual pages of “The Harmony Journal(s),” it has also been
‘reinterpreted’ from an adult point of view for your reading pleasure.
This was more than a carnal attraction
It was adoration in its purest form
The sentiment of all rapture
If there is anyone who wishes to understand the unfettered meaning
of true love and devotion, then by all means, they should read this book.
Yet in life, however, there are always two paths to chose from.
The path of right and wrong. Good and bad. Love and hate.
Sometimes the uncharted path with no arrow is the path we
are predestined to walk. Always remember, for every step taken
on life’s long journey, there is one we do not come back from.
You may seriously want to think twice
about reading this book in its entirety.
She was heaven in the form of a woman.
She was everything perfect in the world.
She was my life, my love, and my best friend.
But this was not to be, for something awful was coming.
“These are all the scribbled notes I have collected from those years.
Pages once part of a journal, kept in order by recollection of events.
Now bear in mind, the memories I have stored away from this period
of time are sketchy and faded. Sadly, they are held together with only
tears, and I am adding life to them as we go along.”
Note to reader: This is not your average tale of unrequited love and
heartfelt romance. In fact, it just may be the most unconventional novel
ever to be acquired on the subject pertaining to the status of a relationship,
and the emotional state of being profoundly in love with your significant other.
A young boy desperately struggling to win the affections
of a very mature teenage girl, he cannot stop thinking of.
One more thing; just because your mind may be unable to fathom it,
doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
In truth, I drank from that cup and I never looked back.
Therefore, I never knew what had begun to take shape
in the dark region known as despair.
An ill wind began brewing, and heaven help the soul left
stranded by the river's edge. It is so cold and lonely there,
my eyes begin to water at the mere thought of it. There in
that wretched place of all forlornness, the mighty angels
who circle above, will not circle above it.
This book, unlike most others in our plain of time, is not about getting to
the point. It's about living in the moment to properly map out and define
one’s very existence. If you are chasing time, then you don’t belong here.
Still, for the price of admission,
how could anyone go wrong?
This story is the heart of the unabridged novel itself; the true title should rightfully
be called, Chapter 32. Unfortunately, the other forty chapters I will not release.
The original title was once called, The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe.
In the world of American literature, how many authors can
you count who have bared their very soul unto the world?
Many have warned me not to do this. . . I didn’t listen.
Even so, I prayed if I could somehow finish transcribing the manuscript,
I would never write again. To this day, I remain true to my word.
If you ever wondered what life in the 1970's was like, take my hand.
If you ever wanted to understand the estate of unbridled love, be my judge.
If you ever wallowed in sorrow through a time of unbearable suffering, feel my pain.
In truth, it is not a gift I possess, but a curse.
I have warned you about coming here. . .
Shall we begin?