Strange Landscape

by Tony Duvert

  he must have seen those boots and could not have resisted them after all there aren’t very many things to attract you in the street you notice them immediately and become as ferocious as any wolf it’s because people take out their garbage cans a little before or after dawn but I was on a street without living people that happened somewhere else then I must have moved on in order to find a less cold spot some place where people still passed by and he helped me lifting me up by one elbow and the collar of my tattered jacket I was surprised that he should want to bring me here to this lovely old country house down by the water he cut across fields I was too heavy to carry all the way so he set me down alongside a pile of white stones I waited there a long while luckily I was in the shade this dry wind this somber sun would have made me sick he goes into the house by the service entrance lights appear at the windows two tiny windows set whimsically upon a huge flat section of wall facing me and people in bright costumes come prancing out into the garden they carry Chinese lanterns rock and sway as they approach I decided it wiser to cry setting up a squall as soon as the colored lights shimmered down over me and some ladies cried out Oh but who can this darling little boy be? we haven’t seen the likes of him before! they are fine ladies I can tell that right off by their heavily mascaraed eyes their long silk gowns beneath which erect penises point making huge humps

  the ceiling must be quite high here but I’m not sure and it doesn’t matter one way or the other now I’m no longer afraid it’s just shadows no danger no unsettling sounds no strange presences I’m falling asleep I can forget whenever whatever whoever I want

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  the kid I thought was older than me he shows me his long prick he whacks off often yanks it out of his fly all stuffed surrounded by shiny hairs Touch go on touch what are you waiting for are you afraid? he forced me to look at it and I said I would tell Nobody’d believe you it never happened see I eyeball chicks all the time in the street they have some sexy legs those chicks I answered No they don’t

  the woods below the riverbank where the huge forest of chestnut trees is crisscrossed by white paths we met there during the summer months built cabins with fresh burgeoning branches bright leaves marsh rushes and tall grasses piled high on top for a roof they pinched bottles of wine from their families emptied them together in the cabins talking bullshitting getting drunk left sometimes to hunt for chicks or else played cards until the hour for the circle jerk when the sun set they like to set me down naked in the middle of them choking on the fumes of their cheesy cocks they sat cross-legged indian powwow style and I collect handfuls of pine needles to cover the floor with a thick layer gliding sliding tingling prickling bare asses they take off their jerseys and arrange them under their stinging cheeks a guy more patient than the rest finishes braiding a door out of rushes set on a wooden frame ligatures of leaves and winding plant stems not enough twine to bind it though maybe in somebody’s pocket bits of string yes some in mine you couldn’t make them out inside their knee pants not even a hint of their shapes or their sizes the pants too baggy good for running jumping squatting in but never the sensation of thighs or that thing down there between I can see feel sense it only when I take off my pants wearing only those tightfitting nylon briefs but today we get into baggy swimsuits And besides you’re too small for it to show anyway they tell me I don’t smoke I don’t drink with them I much prefer it when they go swimming nude or when they all take out their cocks for kicks they’ll get sick hairy bellies glistening with sweat for they’re too young to drink that much wine without mixing it with water first wine fumes and cigarettes too inhaling swallowing somebody spread a blanket on the ground I ought to grab it roll myself into a tight round ball inside I’d feel less cold you have to shiver in some shady corner and then finally the fever’s gone I tuck my arms my legs all clammy beneath the blanket they understand since it’s they who covered me they I didn’t see anyone the next time they come in here I’ll ask for something to drink something icy tart sugary a lemonade maybe

  green eyes open wide glitter and weep puss yawning milky pointed teeth tongue protruding and the body very flat stretched out on its flank I didn’t hear the car squash it no automobiles pass this way at night but still there’s this cat lying across the street its body gray flat dusty without a drop of blood left squishy big round open eyes weeping I don’t come any closer I’d like to speak cry out a long time since I even tried

  as if that huge section of wall bleached by the moon when we returned and the window set there in its center white sill silverplated with shadows jutting forth in sharp relief as if it awaited something bluish glimmer crackling silence the house you don’t escape you stand there paralyzed as on some night after which everything will be forever dead I regain the dark room and the seat where I am I succeed in changing the images somewhat my head is learning how to turn things a liquid a solid have filled me and each section of my body has begun to take on weight no ballast though hands neck shoulders swelling reeling hurling me to the floor I hesitate about falling I’m so ashamed of the noise if they came

  if they came I all this weight shifts down to my rear reassured I roll myself up into a ball snugly within the right angle of the straight-backed chair that sunken part where the ass can bury itself then a ball a blister climbs swells up through my throat it exits breaks perhaps it is opaque white opalescent it’s nothing at all effluvia an exhalation a yearning that circle that shimmers and dances before your eyes when you’ve just been hit over the head another bit of movement if I could see myself from far off I’d say Hey there I’m here they’ll surely help me I’ll never reach the end of it they’ll add another blanket to let me die more slowly underneath I want to thank it’s a hand I saw it quick coming down over me gone again attentive like birds who weren’t afraid of anything I’m pecking out at hands that surround me move flutter without my quite feeling them I don’t dare mention that I should be stretched out somewhere

  some guy lifted me up by the shoulders and another one by the feet they carry me into the house and those lovely ladies follow I open an eye from time to time they are young boys like me moth-eaten gowns wigs fashioned out of scraps of tatty wool they’re giggling I can make out faces better beneath the candelabra in the entrance hall they are all heavily made up rouge on their cheeks rouge on their lips lashes thick black with mascara white powdered skin and their teeth even whiter smiles so flashing necks stiff silken sticking out spindly made more emaciated-looking by those low-cut gowns hanging so loosely over chests without boobs you can slide your hand in there and see for yourself they are all naked underneath and tickling feeling them up those humps they bow low suck bite your fingers gobble gobble chuckling fluttering about like merry monkeys I was expected I’d been missed during the night they find me and adopt me a big bruiser all in gray directs them he isn’t gowned isn’t dressed a schoolboy’s smock he takes it down from one of the pegs in the corridor they grab red chalk and draw a cat on the blackboard four paws spread wide crucified head grinning idiotically claws eyes and whiskers outlined in green red blood flows the length of its tail coming from a long gash across the belly he screams and struggles they hit him hard across the mouth I can make out others strapped to other straight-backed chairs alongside they are already dead some aren’t even eight years old some my age or other ages strangers his calves naked below the too short gray smock are dark and hairy and his black socks tattered they have holes a red ball of fuzz he says

  the black room put him in the black room hurry it up on the double now it’s a room with calcimined walls dead-of-night blue that looks black filthy with some old mattresses rolled up on the floor come on whatever your name is set this watcha-macallit up your nothing but a storeroom without any furniture where they pile up their junk he set up three floodlights Stash away the candy drop your pants grab your cock look up at me don’t move and I obeyed now squat down and shit the thi
n one who cracks a whip with thongs pointed to a rusty toilet bowl and half buried the fatter one pushes apart the tall grasses that prick his cheeks he strains grunts brings forth one two tiny turds and pisses over them that’s all they’ve done everything to make him shit in a bowl concealed by a thicket I don’t understand why yet and already a ball had lured me to the farthest reaches of the garden rushing down sloping green lawns and also hunting for the holes where it might have hidden itself all alone I’m not dressed for walking out in the streets a storm threatens always the sky is blue sulphuric all the way up into the atmosphere

  I recognized his footsteps he’s come to stare at me he’s thirteen fourteen has his own special way of moving I say I’m thirsty he answers Sit up straight the back of the chair bruised my shoulder blades there below where the stream narrows the marsh rushes are too tall too tangled water glides limpidly invisible beneath a bosket of alders the electric fence starts on the other side and the cows beyond we went that way not hurrying feeling quite bored tapping everything in sight with sticks of wood we picked up earlier What shall we do? he doesn’t answer there are little white pebbles in the froth at the water’s edge he picks one up aims it at a cow but they’re all too far away we have to get closer have to get past the electric fence he shows me how sliding between two parallel lengths of wire purring sound brushes my hair my fingers my legs suddenly he raises one wire higher right up against my cock and purposely the juice passes through my balls I cry out without crying it’s his handkerchief shoved into my mouth snotty then a gag on top of that the guys often have black and blue marks cuts scratches that bleed and scab and sometimes even a sprained ankle or broken arm they aren’t afraid of anything

  the house the big one in the pines way beyond the cows you can hear awful noises coming from there some nights

  where? no it’s the trees there’s bats in them

  no I tell you I heard them myself they were beating someone

  who does that? nobody lives there

  that doesn’t prove anything yes I tell you there were noises

  it’s animals then or else some of the guys who go there sometimes to jerk off it’s not locked I remember one night they snuck over there with a flashlight boy I’ll bet they had themselves a ball

  that doesn’t stop it from being

  let’s have a look then huh?

  they told me once I heard it Krauts they killed everybody even after they tortured them yes like the fuzz does now

  oh that’s not true

  yes they were here Krauts I tell you I’m not making it up when there was a war or something haven’t you ever seen movies?

  liar those movies are only stories you’re scared shitless you’re only saying all this so you won’t have to come

  no

  yes

  no

  yes

  no

  yes and then we’ll at least know if it’s true

  true but what if it is?

  yeah sure true my ass hey snotnose come on bet you can’t catch me

  they take off through the great meadow and disappear within a clump of oak trees four little feet pattering silent disappearing as on a street swallowed up suddenly by an unexpected corner I am shut up here pent in I will be sick several days then they will lift me up and after that I’ll go outside again I try to sit down on the edge of the bed my head is spinning I’m sweating I’d feel better if I could just stand up stomach lurches quick reach out quick grab something quick toppling forward the mat by the bed deadens the sound of my body somebody came in I recognized his voice so serious cracking almost adult his words to himself He keeps tossing about he should be tied down he’ll hurt himself it’s the fever the fever I was so cold neck icy a north wind carried me off in its spirals I tightened my coat around me and I no longer could make out anything through nearly closed eyelids to open them wider would have made them weep icicles vision muddier still we are floating in these drops of salty water we can’t be sure of anything I’m somewhere else already over here against a grimy brick wall the butt end of this lost blind alley that the solid black mass of a city crushes down upon

  a cat leaps out when I approach in the night I squash the paws of a tiny corpse I turn around the young kid hasn’t finished taking off his duds yet Don’t you even know how to get bare-assed? he says yes in a tiny nervous treble he blushed all the way up to his ears big round sticking out at right angles from his head and you could squeeze all their fragile necks with a single hand it wouldn’t snap any bones only bend them a little they are still alive the air the light transpierce them and strange glimmers glints flicker beneath their translucid skins they don’t understand anything about it of course I knew him when he was still quite young so tiny his feet didn’t reach all the way down to the ground but he matured fast he stands waiting now in torn socks his thin shoulders shudder shoulder blades protruding as his cock advances and his chubby cheeks arch curve press tightly together whenever he gets a hard-on without even doing so on purpose now the other boys stop shooting off stop bullshitting their own trousers sticky with new-formed pleats downpours of liquid gaping flies fabric molding wetly against bodies so fluid rugged elastic and their nudity always

  they ordered him to sit down while they made up his bed he had to wait a long time drained exhausted there weren’t any more clean sheets except those hanging down in the cellar but they hadn’t finished drying yet somebody moved them closer to the boiler they settled themselves on the bed kneeling face to face with a pocket flashlight beneath their sheet that concealed them and that they stretched up over the poles of their heads playing at camping they don’t have ripe enough cocks yet to do more than play at coming they had fun taking turns each pretending at being a mature prick resting on knees body rigid long and pale and smelling so fresh lighthearted quick on the trigger shooting forth zooooooooooom what some call a child I call a somebody give me something to drink there are stones and ashes in the heart of my mouth

  don’t give him anything he’ll calm down we’ll come back tomorrow still them I am alone because they are here there isolated in this room torn ripped apart pulled every which way toward them so that I no longer can make out the leg of one the buttocks of another and this manner they have of keeping my tongue slightly raised in my mouth whenever my lips part all these pieces of me that I don’t know how to put back together again resemble reassemble I want another their body not these tiny slivers of mine they tied it up they can only see one person one body not all these pieces the ropes also the straight-backed chair also believe me to be one single person and the silence too where I have one single voice with one single throat but I can guess at smell out divine all the others I’ve the eyes for it I am looking into myself still they will all reappear

  a whore calls out to me in the blind alley I am not going to answer I’m afraid of that blackness down there I’m too young to climb up on top of some cunt’s body I will say yes in four or five years she insists

  but lady I am not a little man I am a little boy she won’t listen she pulls me toward her by one of my ears she’s wearing green boots and a boa of red cat fur

  you’re big enough honey but you don’t have the money that’s it huh? how old are you would you like a piece of candy my little sweetie-pie come on now tell me

  you stop that I’m not a girl

  you’re not this you’re not that well then what the fuck are you asshole

  yes

  and he answers me yes yet come on tell me what you’re doing here this is no neighborhood for a kid you know she grabbed my fly with, a tired cynical laugh like that of some lady baboon’s she kept going on about Oh your cute little prickie your darling little prickie-poo and feeling me down there and tears of ice streaming down her cheeks and so I punched her in the gut she yelled pushed me into a door and then opening it before me I fell forward onto the floor where a man shoved his prick between my cheeks his mouth dribble wetting them first I screamed when he penetrated me he tied me down on the bed
flat down upon my belly he pushed it into me for a long time then threw me out I sat down there in the entryway I came to and realized my asshole hurt something awful he must have left something up it I felt around inside my briefs it was a thick wad of cotton red with blood she says that I mustn’t tighten my cheeks like that or I’ll never get used to it they have chairs straight-backed chairs made purposely with round elongated pegs set in the middle of the seats you must remain sitting there your pants down around your ankles all afternoon there are thick pegs and others less thick less long she wets them all first with salad oil they sit me down on the tiniest peg they lash me to the chair it’s not worth all their trouble I don’t fight them or struggle later it’s one of the older boys who explained it all to me he’s able to sit down on the longest fattest peg that doesn’t hurt him at all but he’s at least thirteen they have us sleep in the same bed he’s promised he’ll take care of defend me there are about a dozen beds in the attic some of them big boys others not so it’s there where we all sleep they don’t resemble each other much ours is a cage all iron shiny bars yellow balls decorating each corner the attic is long low-roofed badly lit they don’t watch us at all at night we can do whatever we want but during the day I have to sit on the straight-backed chair and then obey all those men who come it’s a whorehouse yes that’s why they feed us so well I’ve gotten fatter already my bed partner the bigger guy touches me all the time at night he puts his prick into my mouth I don’t like that he says that it takes time and it’ll come to me it hasn’t come yet for me but it has for him he sucks me until I

  a far-off rumbling black clouds gathering you can smell the rain brewing behind them the sun shines too bright sharp false edges around things light turning yellow acidy biting too much voltage in the atmosphere he tells me to run for it we’re going to get soaked another rumble clouds huddling around the sun blotting it out until you can’t see it anymore except for some rays yellow gray that bespatter the great meadow a real loud clap of thunder this time he shouts Quick! we make a dash for it the house beyond the cows the abandoned house those strange noises they were the cows in the woods going whooooooooooh because of the storms I’m scared the sky crackles spits splits and a bolt zigzags across at the-very moment we are trying to climb up over the iron fence of the garden the pickets so rusty they could act as lightning rods and then we’d really be in for it big drops of water scalding shuddering all over us we’d better hurry climb a cement staircase that winds snakily vine-covered cracked almost black in places across a rose garden the house is still higher up beyond the flowers get wilder again pale pink and their hearts yellow mine yellow too the rain falls more quickly now colder at last we reach the glass portico flatten ourselves under it against each other the door’s easy you only have to give it a push nothing is locked here the entrance hall so grand and shadowy smell of vegetables the odor heightened by the wetness downpour upon thick leaves of pumpkins of currant bushes of sorrel and above all green tomatoes I ask him Shouldn’t we go upstairs? he answers No look how it’s coming down in buckets outside that can’t last I can make out tiles on the floor red and white lozenges forming a series of stars