THE ASTRAKHAN'S FEATHER

The beginning...

This is what you might call a more detailed version of my book CHRIST, which you'll also find on Wattpad. Story is, I wrote this version after my agent told me to make the characters deeper, more evolved - so I did. And i added some in too because I felt it made the story richer. Took me a while, couple of years in fact in between the day job. I sent it off to the agent and she said....there's too much detail here. So I cut a lot out, I slashed and burned, I made it spare and curt some main characters (who I loved and hated killing off, to be honest).  CHRIST was the result. I sent if off to my agent and she said, "nah, it's not grabbing me". Yeah well, there we are. 

Anyway, personally I like The Astrakhan's Feather but if you don't maybe you'll like Christ. Either way, I hope you find something to enjoy. Let me know....

One

"Christ, you remember when you used to be someone?"

Vinnie leaning back in the chair, black wife-beater tight but unable to contain the curling black chest hair, small black running shorts stretched over thick hairy brown legs, toes curling in thongs, legs astride so anyone passing can see the stallion's cock slumbering in there, black eyes glittering like a fish in the rainbow light sliding off the water. Hair worn long, loose, slick, black as Exxon sweet crude.

Christ leaned forward over the nickel table.

"You look so gay."

Vinnie smiled.

"Yeah, I do." He got up, waving to the kids messing down by the harbourside. He shook his head. One day someone would fall in there and drown.

"Tudor, Sax, Eve! Get on over here. We're going in, kids!"

They ran screaming, jumping, five-year-old Saxon hopping from one foot to another, being a rabbit this morning, hands curled in front of him, Bugs Bunny front teeth. Tudor running, brushing seven years of spun-caramel floppy hair from his eyes. Eve, laughing, looking at Tee with Vinnie's black eyes.

Vinnie thinking, I'll have to watch out for that young man, my daughter the way she looks at him, if I had a double-barrel and I was back in the old country, I'd be cocking it.

A ferry hooted. Its wash curled up the side of the harbour wall slow and gold as honey in the bright morning light.

Sunlight flickered through chuckling water fountains as they tumbled laughing through hissing doors, sucked into a sudden cool and quiet world.

"One family ticket, please."

Vinnie ran on the spot, knees high, the kids watching him suspiciously.

Christ leaned on the counter, giving the bespecled obese woman behind the grille a smile. He'd never seen glasses so thick. Finger smudges clouded the edges of the lenses. Her brown eyes seemed big as planets.

Christ's orange and red Paul Ropp shirt fluttered. The invisible air conditioned breeze making his eyes water. He crinkled them like George Clooney, brushed a hand through his short fuck-you grey hair.

"Where's the mother?"

"The mother?" said Christ, feigning surprise.

"Yeah," said the woman, leaning forward on her counter making it creak like a tea clipper climbing a tall wave. The stick-like girl next to her with the Traycee badge shot her an alarmed glance.

"You know. The mother in this family."

Vinnie came and stood next to Christ, put a bare, brown-muscled arm around his friend's shoulders, gave the woman a look.