No Trespassing

Throw a bunch of words in a hat, pull one out, and write a story using that word.

This week’s word: ANSWER


This might be my sense of adventure talking, or maybe right vs. wrong (or lack thereof). Maybe I just like danger, or sticking it to authority. Honestly, I don’t know, I just know that whenever I see a No Trespassing sign, I have to trespass, I have to go. It’s like a compulsion, I can’t help it, I can’t say no.

I mean, how can you not? Don’t you wonder what’s over there? What’s so special? What they’re hiding and why can’t we see it? I must know! I need answers, curiosity is a natural instinct, and that’s why I go.

Most of the time it’s harmless. You never get caught and if you do they just ask you to leave. Maybe they’ll arrest you if it’s really serious: like a federal building or government land, but even then it’s just a night in jail, no one cares, and for the most part trespassing involves no one seeing you, no one is even there.

Except one time, I was alone, hiking in the Hollywood Hills. Just out for a walk, not planning anything, but I saw the sign and that was it, I had to go. Had to know: what’s back there? What are they hiding, alone in the hills, behind their No Trespassing sign. They’re so adamant we stay out that a fence isn’t enough? They have to announce they have secrets? Their No Trespassing sign, it’s begging me to come.

So I head off the trail, down the hill, to their property. I hop the fence (the fence that, incidentally, would easily have kept me out had no sign been accompanying it), and land on the other side, in their backyard, in the unknown.

Unknown but not exciting, for there’s nothing here, just a yard. Secluded, overgrown, not even a nice one, we’re in the Hollywood Hills after all. There’s a house too, a little ways away, but it isn’t much better, small and plain, not what you’d expect in this rich fancy area, protected by overgrowth and that fence and their No Trespassing sign.

But still, there must be something. Even if there isn’t, I must know: what’s back here? Why the security? The secrecy? What are these people worried about? What are they hiding?

I circle the house, trying to find something to make this place worth visiting. But I can’t find anything, this place is boring. What the fuck? Is this another one of those homes that’s just worried about robberies? Not a crazy recluse or a conspiracy freak. Those are worth visiting. Not this. What a waste, what a letdown, if you’re gonna have No Trespassing signs, have something worth it, make it exciting.

Wait a second, what’s that? In the bathroom, through the window? It’s a guy, finally, something. He must be the owner. And you know what, he looks kind of familiar. Do I know him? Is he famous? I think he’s an actor. A character actor, I’ve seen him, what have I seen him in?

You know what else, he’s not going to the bathroom. Facing the wrong direction, and his face, eyes closed, short breaths, breathing heavy, is he… Oh my God, he is! He’s getting blown! I can’t see it, the window’s not that big, but I can tell, he’s definitely getting blown.

Alright, now this is exciting, a whole new level of trespassing and spying. Watching his pleasure, his moaning, his enjoyment and delight. But before I know it it’s over, not that he finished: he’s distracted, he’s looking straight at me. Shit! He caught me! Staring at me, through the window, confused and surprised. How did he find me? He was supposed to be enjoying his blowjob; how did he know I was here, I was watching?

Oh boy, he’s angry, this actor I can’t place, I interrupted his pleasure; he’s definitely angry. His fun ends, and then up pops… what the fuck?!

Another guy? That’s his secret! He’s gay! I’ve been watching a blowjob between two guys! This closet gay actor, worried about trespassers, receiving blowjobs from guys; if only I knew who he was! Remember! Remember! Where have I seen this guy? Remember!

Fuck, where’d he go? It’s just the boyfriend now, he doesn’t look familiar at all. Where’d the actor go? He was angry, he was fuming; where did he go?

There he is, the bedroom. Still naked, still angry. Thankfully his erection is gone, I don’t need to see that, for I’m not the gay one. He’s going through his nightstand, looking for clothing no doubt, then he finds it, pulls it out.

Fuck! That’s not clothing, that’s a gun! A fucking handgun! He’s not angry, he’s crazy! I realize as the screen door flies open, and I got to get out of here, back where I came from. No time to delay, no more trespassing, no more spying; I’m off as I hear gunshots behind me. What the fuck? I thought gay men were friendly. I’m only trespassing, go finish your blowjob, you don’t need to kill me.

I keep running and he keeps firing, screaming, I can hear him behind me, as I cut through the yard, through the overgrowth, to the fence, which I scale quick and I’m gone, out of his yard, off his property. On the correct side of the No Trespassing sign, and this is one I’ll obey from now on. This one here, as I continue to run, run away, far away, away from this home. Away from this crazy gay man, this crazy naked gun-wielding angry gay actor man. He was definitely an actor, if only I could place him. I know I’ve seen him, if only I could place him. This is going to bug me. What’s his name, what’s he been in, the naked gay actor who tried to kill me.

I don’t know, it’s not coming to me and I don’t remember, I don’t know. This is one answer I’ll never have, for while I don’t mind trespassing, I’m not going back there. Getting shot at? Angry gay men? No thank you, that guy was crazy.

So enjoy your privacy closet gay man, enjoy your bathroom blowjobs, your secrecy with guys. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, I don’t even know who you are. Even if I wanted to tell I wouldn’t be able, I don’t recognize you, I don’t know you, and so your secret is safe, I’ll tell no one. Yes, I don’t know you, and I’m not going near you, your secret is safe, behind your No Trespassing sign.


The Mirror

Two friends visit a house that one of them inherited from a relative. In the house is a 100-year-old mirror, unbroken. Write the story.


Warning: This one is creepy.

I didn’t want to go but she didn’t want to go alone. That old place, two hundred years old. She says it’s haunted but I don’t believe that, I don’t believe in stuff like that. That’s why I didn’t mind going with her, to check out the house because haunted or not, it’s hers. Cooky, crazy grandma is gone and now it is hers.

She’ll probably sell it. Such an old place, beautiful too, it should be a museum or something. So old and ornate, and I’ve only seen pictures. They don’t make ’em like this anymore; it’s a treasure, that’s what I think. But she doesn’t agree; she doesn’t like this place, thinks it’s haunted, whatever that means.

We arrive out front, park our car and here we are. The place is amazing, gorgeous, a masterpiece. I’m already blow away, pictures do not do this place justice. Lets go inside, I can’t wait.

Inside it’s beautiful, just like the outside. Ornate and intricate, every inch impeccable. Love was put into this place, love and craftsmanship; it’s amazing. It’s also empty. Expansive and empty, all the furniture willed elsewhere, leaving the house barren, a barren empty house for her.

Now’s probably a good time, I’ll tell you about her. Claire Bougal, so sweet and wonderful, innocent too, and really beautiful. She’s a friend, met her at work and I fell for her immediately, got friend zoned though. Definitely what happened although I don’t like to admit it, there’s nothing you can do when your stuck in the friend zone. It’s frustrating, working together, seeing each other every day and I’m always the friend, stuck in the friend zone. But now she asks me over, with her, to her home? Surely she knows? Surely she knows.

I can see, she is scared; she doesn’t like this place at all. I love it, I think it’s amazing, but she doesn’t think so; she’s nervous, timid, scared. Even so, she’s doing okay; she’s brave, taking it slow, overcoming her fear, visiting her home.

Until it’s time for upstairs that is, for upstairs she can’t go. Stuck down below, the bottom of the staircase, she’s afraid to go forward, to go up, can’t go up there. I stand beside her and I don’t understand, the stairs are quite normal, sturdy and strong, elaborate and ornate. Old fashioned design, old wood, hand made, it’s quite beautiful and nothing to be scared of, this staircase is a wonder, like the rest of this place.

I take a step forward. The stairs creak but nothing more. They’re normal, I’m fine, nothing to stop me from going forward. I offer my hand, outstretched, to help her. For she has to go, take one last tour of this place before she sells it away, to whoever will buy it; I sure would, this house is amazing, I love this place.

She takes my hand and oh, what a feeling: her hand within mine, her soft skin, so smooth and delicate. And she’s trembling, she’s vulnerable, so nice and so sweet, open and caring, beautiful and weak. I am here, don’t be scared, we can get through this together, her and me, me and her, we can get through this together.

We head upstairs, where it’s just like below, beautiful and ornate, every bit the beautiful two hundred year old home. It’s empty too, except a lone rug down the hall, but who cares about rugs? They aren’t scary and there’s nothing to fear, there’s nothing here, there’s nothing to fear.

We walk down the hall, tense and slow but making progress, her hand still in mine. We reach the first room, a bedroom. She freezes: it’s her room, her old bedroom, where she used to stay overnight, back when she was a kid, before she wasn’t forced to stay with grandma anymore. Where she’d stay awake all night, hiding under covers, trembling in fear. She hated this place, filled with dark forces, surrounded by evil that haunted everywhere.

But there’s none of that now, it’s just an empty house, nothing but a rug down the hall, and the two of us, her and me, me to protect her. She stays in the doorway but she can see the room is empty: there’s nothing at all, there’s nothing to fear. I put my arm around her, comfort and support her, and she’s so soft, so gentle and I could stay like this forever, touching her body, breathing her fragrance, enjoying everything about her, taking everything all in. But there’s more to this house, more to explore, and so she moves on, so we move on.

The other bedrooms are easier, all empty and none of them hers. She has slight hesitations but no more freezing and much less fear. She’s getting stronger, moving down the hall, past each room, she’s so brave and so strong.

All that’s left is the master, where we’ll go inside and she’ll see: there’s nothing there, nothing sinister, nothing in this entire house that is worthy of fear. It’s just like any old house, it’s normal, old and spooky but not haunted, nothing evil. One more room, you can do it, don’t be frightened, lets go in and conquer your fears.

But frightened she is, terrified again. Grandma’s room, and she can’t go in. She’s shaking, her strength lost and she’s vulnerable again; she can’t even speak. What is she so afraid of? What is inside, why can’t she go in?

You can’t stop now, you must go in. So close to the finish, overcoming your fear. You must do this, go inside, one last room, if you don’t it will haunt you the rest of your life. She nods, agrees, holds her breath as tears well in her eyes. God, she is beautiful, so brave and so strong, standing here vulnerable, the last room of this two hundred year old masterpiece of a home.

I open the door slowly, hold her hand, guide her in. And for the first time, the room isn’t empty, there’s one piece remaining. A mirror. A full body mirror, striking and tall, glowing in sunlight, dominating the room. It’s a hundred years old but it looks brand new, exquisite, magnificent, the perfect antique for this antique of a home.

She doesn’t think so, she doesn’t like it. One look and she wants out, out of this room, out of this home.

Why? What’s wrong; it’s just a mirror. Lavish and enchanting, it’s a treasure; her grandma probably used it every time she went out, made her feel powerful, made her she feel pretty. I can see it now, looking at myself, at myself in the mirror. Strong and powerful and I’m not even in this room, I’m wherever I want. Is this what she’s afraid of? This house? This mirror? The mirror of power, of confidence, of want. This mirror that can transport me anywhere, wherever I want, whatever I want.

I look back at her, her and me, me and her; what is she so afraid of? There’s nothing bad going on here. She wants to leave but this place is great; I feel great, powerful and strong, I can do anything, I can do what I want. This beautiful girl, so vulnerable, so strong. I can do her, bring life into her, give her courage, give her strength, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I can take her, help her; I can destroy her fear.

She’s scared, I can see it. She trembles back, goes for the door.

NO! I won’t allow it, and the door slams shut, obeying my command. You can’t go, you must get over your fears. That’s why we’re here, why you brought me here. To help you, me and this mirror, filling me with power, with strength, strength that I will give to you. You give me your beauty, your innocence, and I will take away your fear, replace it with strength, confidence, power. Don’t tremble, don’t fear, this is what you wanted, it’s why we are here.

She collapses, clutches the floor. And even then, she’s so pretty, soft and frail, innocent and weak. Her dress flutters open and there’s no need to worry, I know what I’m doing, here I go, I go in. Don’t cry, don’t be afraid, you are beautiful and we’re in a wonderful place. A wonderful place where I’m giving you my strength, my passion and bravery, from the mirror to me and me to you and there’s no need to cry, no need to be afraid. I can see you in the mirror, tough and strong, powerful, no fear. That’s the girl I see. Conquering this house, your new home, your fear. It’s clear as day and I’m just glad I came, glad I could help, glad I could be with you, inside you, conquering this place, in and out and the trembling has stopped, you’ve stopped, no more fear, you’re stronger now as we finish together and the door swings back open, you can go, we can leave. We’ve conquered this place, you and me, me and you, we did it, no more fear, we’ve conquered this place.

Wait. Before we go, you should look, the mirror, what do you see? Stand in front, peer inside; what do you see? Nothing? You see nothing? That’s okay, don’t be sad, for I’m here with you and I see everything. I see the world; and you and me, we’ll conquer it all, together, forever, in our new home. I’m here for you, I’m here with you, to conquer your fears and keep you strong. We’ll be here together, here for each other, my power and your beauty, my strength and your vulnerability. We’ll be here together, together forever, in this home, with this mirror, where there’s nothing to fear and we’ll always be strong.

Love Stories

I just rewatched Drive and realized I should post the table cards Inna and I made for our wedding! Our favorite love stories, a still and a quote; can you identify each film? Enjoy!

1 city lights

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