Title: The View From Olympus Mons
Author: Barry Creyton
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 08/09/2022
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Length: 56500
Genre: Gay Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sex workers, bartender, scientist, men with children, performance arts, reunited, deep closet, coming out, HIV/Aids, tear-jerker
Add to Goodreads
Description
Nate and Craig are inseparable high school friends in spite of their social differences—Nate from a wealthy family, Craig struggling to support his drug-addicted mother.
The boys seal their friendship by burying a time capsule, a collection of childhood possessions representing their lives, swearing to unearth it thirty years hence. They look forward to the future with optimism, but when Nate declares his deep feelings for Craig, he’s rejected and circumstances part the two. Thirty years later, Craig is informed of Nate’s hospitalization in critical condition, the victim of a hate crime.
In the twenty-four hours Craig spends at his boyhood friend’s bedside, events which have shaped their lives over three decades unfold—Craig’s journey from poverty to respect as a computer scientist, through twenty years of unhappy marriage, to the late discovery of his true sexuality, while Nate is disowned by his family and forced to support himself by prostitution.
Though contact between them has been nil for thirty years, neither has been able to break the bond formed in their childhood—Craig unable to forgive himself for re-jecting his friend; Nate’s life and relationships ham-pered by his unending, unresolved love for Craig.
Ultimately, Craig will drive a frenzied 900 miles to find release from the guilt that has shadowed his life—back to the tree house where it all began.
The View from Olympus Mons
Barry Creyton © 2022
All Rights Reserved
Mr. Northcott scrawled Treaty of Greenville across the blackboard, pounded a period at the end of this, and turned to the class in grim triumph at having accomplished something as remarkable as applying chalk to board. He was a gaunt man of fifty, a little too tidy, with receding hair and no discernable lips. He surveyed the class.
Craig and Val sat either side of Nate at adjacent desks. Craig’s head drooped slowly to his chest. Nate noted this with alarm.
Northcott addressed the class. “The Northwest Indian War was waged between 1785 and 1795 between the United States and a confederation of Native American tribes. It was also known as—what? Harris?”
A bespectacled kid proclaimed confidently, “The Ohio War.”
Nate nudged Craig who gasped as his head snapped up. Northcott caught this, and his thin line of a mouth twisted at the corners. “Among other names.” He looked like a hunter about to pounce on prey as he approached Craig. “Give me one, Hendricks.”
Craig looked bewildered. Nate piped up, “Little Turtle’s War!”
Northcott shot an angry glance at him. “Since when is your name Hendricks?”
Nate opened his eyes wide. “I thought you meant me.”
“Hendricks, Broderson. We can all see how those two names could be confused.” An obligatory chuckle rippled through the class. Northcott returned his attention to Craig. “Perhaps you can tell us which country supported this war?”
Beyond Northcott’s angular frame and unseen by him, Nate mouthed, “The Brits!”
Craig took the cue. “The British.”
Northcott weighed this in silence for a moment. “Not bad for someone who sleeps through my classes. Maybe you should get a little more rest and a little less of whatever else you’re wasting your time on.”
Craig blinked, drew breath between clenched teeth, and his hands curled into fists. He was the frequent brunt of Northcott’s needling. But before he could vent, Nate spoke. “Maybe if your classes were a little more interesting.”
A gasp from a plump girl at the front of the class punctuated the silence as Northcott turned slowly to Nate.
Nate smiled affably. “Just saying sir.”
“Go to my office.”
Nate, still smiling, slid from his desk and left the room. Northcott regarded Craig with contempt.
At 4:00 p.m., Craig sat on the steps of the deserted school. Nate came out of the building, and Craig rose to meet him.
“You didn’t have to do that, man.”
“You were gonna bite. That’s just what he wanted. He would’ve had you doing chores, fixing his filing system, sweeping his stupid office. He’s always chewing you out. He’s an asshole.”
“Nate…”
“Hey, it was just detention.”
Craig smiled. “Thanks, buddy.”
Nate swung his backpack over a shoulder. It was a smart, genuine leather bag with the big red S of the Superman logo stitched into it.
Craig patted the logo. “You rescued me again, Superman!” He put his arm about Nate’s shoulder, and they walked off laughing.
Purchase
NineStar Press | Books2Read
Amazon
Barry Creyton has worked extensively in British and Australian theatre and television as actor, playwright and director. His plays are produced in more than twenty languages. Awards include the prestigious Kessell Award for his outstanding contributions to Australian theatre, the L.A. Ovation Award, and the Noel Coward International Writing Award. He resides in the United States. Visit Barry’s Website.
