excerpt from:

A Beautiful Day in Hell

( When the Church Tells a Child
– Either Fake it or Be Damned )

by C. Anthony Roan

( expected – 2024 )
 Prelude

THE WITCHING HOUR

( conflagration )

Burning embers, red hot with rage, aloft in

furious flight, screamed whistling through
space in some grand conjuror's illusion of
primal, yet cognizant, life; as showers of
spiraling sparks eddied endlessly in
kaleidoscopic swirls against the vast vault of
darkness; where all once black was now
tinged ruddy orange, like the rarest of
amber, lit aglow from within – soulless
stone come to life.

A chorus of howls greeted the boy and his

companions as they navigated this darkened
bramble down a carved-away path towards
their inevitable goal: The great fire.

Drawing nearer, a dull thud of drums began

pounding and pulsing, even rattling the
fragrant bower of bay trees above, and they
began to catch sight of flames licking forth
and leaping skyward – lit aglow from
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within with veins of blazing molten yellow
gold.

And then the window ahead began to dilate

slowly open, ushering forth the gentlest
whisper of bone scorching heat which,
ahead, consumed the night. The silhouettes
of countless revelers filled the frame –
clustering, muttering, swarming, throbbing,
dancing – to the beat of multiple drums
now, as a melody emerged – recognizable,
familiar, friendly and alive:

Let’s go on a holiday, uh huh, alright; have

some fun and get away, bum bum bumm,
all night…

And, like that, the black silhouetted bay

laurel branches opened up like a curtain to
reveal a wide glade surrounded by deep
shades of vibrant green lit by the flickering
fire: Ferns, toyon, ribes, and a mammoth
circle of towering redwoods which kept
watch on this midsummer's night.

A tapestry of colorful men surrounded the

massive bonfire, as if half a dozen gay bars
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had all let out onto this bucolic glade down
by the Russian River. It was 'Lazy Bear'
weekend – and though all sorts had come
out to enjoy the night's festivities, most here
this night were either bears, cubs, otters, or
their admirers.

Of course, there was a large contingent of

leather; several Sisters of Perpetual
Indulgence; a good handful of diva-esque
drag queens; a nice showing of womyn –
some in flannel, some in lipstick, and more
than a couple in both; a handsome
assortment of trans, gender fluid, and non-
binary individuals freely in full expression;
a bunch of shirtless gym queens and macho
muscle studs; a few queer hippies and
crunchy cannabis cultivators; a trio of
handkerchiefed cowboys in boots, hats, and
Wranglers; and all of these were rounded
out throughout the crowd with a good
couple dozen run-of-the-mill gay and bi
guys hanging out and reveling with the rest
– the all important vanilla at the local ice
cream shop.

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Of whom the boy's absolute favorite was
already headed directly his direction – his
cobalt blue eyes distinctly shining out, even
in the fire-lit light, set off against his
lusciously smooth, caramel mocha latte skin
and short but wavy jet black hair. He
leaned forward and kissed the boy firmly,
but quickly, right on the mouth; then
bopped around pecking each of his friends
sweetly upon their freely offered cheeks,
making them all feel exactly just like fam.

Which they were.

Nearly all here at the bonfire tonight had

long learned the lesson of being ousted and
unwelcomed. More than a few from their
own blood born familias. To survive and to
thrive, enough to bring them out – of the
closet – and also out here together on this
evening – they had all furthermore been
required to advance to a much deeper
lesson: Redefinition 201.

A family, a tribe, a cohesive social unit of

belonging, togetherness, and love; embraces
their own, cares for each other, accepts their
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children, their elders, their partners, their
spouses, their peers. Yes, and that's
precisely what could be found on this night
in all directions, wherever one looked, here
in Guerneville, this proudly 'hate free’
community, down by the late summer fire.
Family. In the truest sense of the word.
Honest to goodness, tightly knit, deeply
bonded, caring, loving, nurturing, fam.

Meanwhile, off to the edge of the glade, by

the kegs and DJ station, new vibrant lights
began emerging, clicking to life, all electric
purple, illuminating the darkness; as glow
sticks and bracelets and necklaces were
opened and lit and freely passed about, to
go forth, shining and twirling – to bob and
dance amongst the crowd. And dance they
did. But the boy did not take one.

Instead, beer in hand, he stepped aside to

light up a smoke. There, in the shadows, a
whiff of deep, heady musk drew his eyes off
to focus on a shirtless, furry stud who'd
been practically poured into his jeans.

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This handsome faun glanced over his
shoulder – oh, that jaw line – and his eyes
sparked in the light of the fire. And then he
disappeared down a path into the bramble.
The boy's cheeks flushed with warmth, as
did his package, and without thinking, he
took a good few steps in this new direction,
towards the dark.

Now. This is the moment, were this being

televised, that we'd quick cut away for a
break, ninety seconds, to return with a bold
font disclaimer in all capital letters:
Promiscuous homosexual behavior /
implied drug usage ahead…

Not that you can't find all sorts of

provocative hetero situations – strip joints,
lap dances, adultery, full on ass-baring,
thrusting, frenching, pounding – and right
on the common channels – all in prime
time.! And implied drug usage.? Rampant
and blatant. Every third channel. But hey.
These are queers going at it here, so you'd
best turn your eye – and beware!

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Fortunately, though, this is musical theatre,
and, as we all know, those who spend their
hard earned cash on Broadway tickets, or
stand in line patiently at the TKTS counter
for a mere chance to catch a show, generally
understand they might be in for some
challenging topics or situations; and for the
most part are open minded enough to take
the ride.

They don't need to be told that this Does

Not represent the LGBTQIA community as a
whole, nor even gay men alone as a
community. This is just a path that a
portion thereof choose to venture down.

So, in lieu of a disclaimer, as the lights dim

on the crowd and "We are Family" cross-
fades into something more tribal and
vaguely haunting; the entire chorus goes
still, frozen in action; the background shrubs
part gently to reveal a large gothic arch
entwined in ivy; upon which stands a grand,
dark-skinned, queer diva cloaked in a
sequined, black satin gown; who stretches
her arm extensions outward; great black
wings now billowing forth; within which
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reads, in large scarlet rhinestone letters:
"Judge Ye Not, Lest Ye Be Judged;" before
lifting aloft, wings gently flapping, to
disappear into the darkened heavens of the
backstage catwalks, up.

Spotlight on the boy, stepping upstage

towards the archway – in slow motion now
– as five rainbow colored fairies emerge
from the thickets behind – singing gayly:

"There's a serpent in the woods! A bloody

serpent in these woods! He's blowing
smoke up on a boulder, and he's trying to
hawk his goods..

"There's a snake back in the bushes! A

rotten snake back in these bushes! Better
keep your drawers pulled up, and you'd
best to hide your tushes..

"So if you venture down this path, you've

been warned to watch your back! Better
mind your P's and Q's, and be careful who
you choose!

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"There's a serpent in the woods! (Be good!)
A serpent in these woods! (Be good!) Can't
come out into the light, so please stay here
and dance all night! (Be good!!)"

And all together, chuckling just like little

tipsy cherubs, the fairies frolic about – as the
boy crosses into the darkness – a new
curtain descends to deliver us into the forest
– the music slows and gently grows quiet –
and the stage all fades to black.

***********
Fade in: The faun saunters in from stage
right. He's sprouted a bushy goat tail, and
satyr ears and horns. He comes to center
stage just as the boy enters behind him. The
curtain parts, a disembodied arm reaches
forth, beckoning to the faun, and he
disappears, curtains rippling to hide him as
he passes.

The boy creeps forward to see where he's

gone – comes to center, confounded – and
the curtain lifts again to reveal…

***********
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 10
 Book One

– DAWN –

( deconstruction )

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