Millions of kids were growing up in the uniquely American nineteen fifties and yet Alan Sommers knew he was very different from those around him. A difficult birth, he became the first and only child his parents were to conceive. Even then he couldn’t know what a shock his appearance made in the delivery room.

The pale skin that covered his body looked chalky and the white hair concerned his parents and all those gathered for the occasion. After several days in the hospital the doctors told Mr. Sommers that the boy had just missed the combination of genetic markers that would have made him albino. The family was cautioned about exposing the boy in too much sunlight and for his formative years Alan was kept indoors during the daytime.

But as good Catholics they never expressed their doubts at having such an unusual son. Instead they went and discussed it with the parish priest. He counseled them to accept the child as God’s gift but even he was slightly disturbed when the child was presented for the sacrament of Baptism. Most babies cried when holy water was poured on their heads but Alan kept silent. His eyes stared up into the priest’s face and the man felt something pass between them.

Soon after he began to walk and talk, Alan developed the ability to understand and feel what others were thinking. He didn't know that other people couldn't do this and he just assumed it was part of human interaction. For that reason he never discussed it with his parents, or anyone else for that matter.

Alan found this ability fascinating when he finally realized it was unique. His parents had always been straightforward with him so there was rarely a conflict between what they said and what they thought. It wasn't until he began to be around other children that his ability revealed the duplicity of life. People would lie to him and the glaring conflict between the words they spoke and what he could see in their eyes startled him.

The indoor confinement seemed unjust to a boy who could stare out the window at the other children playing in the bright sunshine. His behavior worsened to the point that his parents took Alan into psychological counseling. The battery of tests he took at age five revealed that his anger was understandable since he was a virtual prisoner in his own home. Of course the doctor didn't know of Alan's abilities either.

At the age of six he began school like most other kids and tried his best to get along with the children in his class. Learning provided a much needed outlet for Alan's mind and he flourished.

When he complained to his teacher about headaches, Alan once again found himself in the doctor's office. This time the medical profession became concerned that he might have an abnormal growth in his brain that was causing pressure and therefore pain. He lay for several hours hooked up to a machine that measured his brain activity.

He was only six years old, but even as he lay on that table hooked up to the machines, Alan understood that no one could find out about his abilities. Discovery meant he would be poked and prodded for the rest of his life. And so little Alan did the one thing he could do to prevent discovery, he turned himself off.

To all outward appearances, the boy was perfectly normal after that and the headaches were blamed on fluorescent lighting in the classroom. It took a good bit of self control to submerge his abilities. But by doing so he developed a greater sense of himself. He knew that what lay within his mind was a wonderful gift and that at some point he would learn why it had been given to him.

As he grew older, Alan discovered that his abilities had some recognition within society. He read about famous clairvoyants and those with the special talent of telekinesis. The boy wasn't sure how this all applied to him but he recognized that people like himself were often considered freaks. He knew he had made the right choice in hiding this power.

Alan began to develop his sense of sexuality in the fourth grade. At nine years of age he wasn’t sure of the feelings he had discovered but like his mental abilities he decided they weren’t something he could discuss.

The young boys around him were still awkward about Alan’s looks. But things had become better for him when a dermatologist prescribed a skin cream that would allow him a moderate amount of exposure to the sun. As he aged, Alan’s hair began to develop some color and it turned out that he was actually a blonde like his mother. He often wore sun glasses to protect his sensitive eyes but in those years dark glasses were the sign of cool.

He managed to forge a few close friendships with boys his own age. And although the girls in his school found his looks enticing, Alan paid them little attention. The silly little crushes these pre-adolescent girls had for him were amusing. The signals he received from girls only served to confuse his developing sexual thoughts.

Alan wondered about himself as he sat naked in the bathtub and stared down at his stiff little penis. Why did it do that? He'd noticed other boys getting stiff in their shorts. His friends discussed sex, girl’s breasts mainly, but Alan didn’t see the big deal.

Alan and a classmate once showed their penises off to one another and then touched each other. It felt dirty and yes, more than a little exciting. This happened a few times with the same boy but they were both too young to explore anything further. Only Alan felt that he had learned something more about himself.

When he was almost eleven, a man in the park stopped to talk with him. The smile on the man's face told Alan he was lying about having lost his little dog. Instead what he saw behind the man's eyes scared him. The guy must have realized he was disturbing the boy and he quickly walked away.

A good thing too as Alan was about to reach out and push the man away with his mind. He had never done such a thing before but he was confident that he would have hurt the man. It was then he realized that a powerful ability had returned to his conscious mind. Only now it felt stronger.

The sixties were barely in motion when Alan turned eleven years old. It was an age where his body was going through changes and a host of conflicting thoughts bombarded his mind. He had come up with few answers but deep inside grew the seed of a very disturbing thought. The reason he didn’t like girls was that he was queer.

Growing up in a Catholic family invested a certain amount of guilt and shame in a young boy's feelings. The rigid dogma of the Church, as Alan understood it, mandated that his thoughts were a mortal sin and he would be condemned to the fires of hell for eternity. Faith, and his mother, had instilled fears of a host of heavenly spies who now knew his every thought and deed. At any time he knew she could call upon an army of saints and angels to tell on him and reveal these innermost secrets.

Alan was concerned about his guardian angel. The ghostly presence his mother said was watching over his shoulder. Did the angel know of his gift? After all, God knew everything about him, didn't He?

But he took comfort in the fact that the Bible said he was made in God’s image and that meant his abilities had come from heaven too. But his real concern was what God would think about the sexual feelings that were beginning to develop in his gifted mind.

Crossing the threshold into puberty was an event that heightened the awareness of what the priest called evils lurking inside his body. Despite his best attempts, Alan’s hands could not stay away from that forbidden place between his legs. Masturbation became a horrible mixture of contentment and guilt. He was surely doomed to hell.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," Alan intoned at Saturday morning confession, "I have had impure thoughts and performed sinful deeds."

No, that wasn't true at all. He had wonderful thoughts. Spectacular visions of his friends naked came to him every day. The daydreams of sexual encounters drove him simply wild with passion as he rubbed himself at night and prayed for an orgasm.

He knew that all the other boys were doing the same thing. The raw sexuality he saw in their eyes spurred his actions until his poor penis was sore from the abuse. But he couldn't tell that to this man on the other side of the dark curtain, a priest was celibate, how could he even know what it meant? Alan wanted to scream out loud, "I jerk on it, Father, you know, play with it? My world is all about it—it rules my life."

"At your age, life is full of dangerous thoughts," the priest intoned after his confession. "When you feel the urge to abuse yourself say a prayer instead. The temptation to commit impure acts is a tool the devil uses to lure innocent children down the path to sin. Now make an act of contrition and as your penance say five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers."

"Contrition? Listen, Father," Alan thought. "I like whacking off. Its lots and lots of fun. How can fun be sinful?"

Having sex with other boys is what he wanted to try. But he could never say that to a priest and just as well. Alan found he couldn’t ask another boy to have sex with him either.

Inevitably his relationship with the Church deteriorated despite the threats his mother made about eternal damnation. Alan skipped going to Mass because he couldn't believe in the Faith when he knew they had no faith in him. Being queer was unacceptable to The Church and his soul was damned. The final blow came when he was twelve and Alan knew in his heart that he was teetering on the edge of hell.

Being a public school student, Alan was required to take religion classes one night a week. He tried to dodge the bullet but his mother forced him to go. The religion teacher was a lay person and Alan was grateful that at least they didn't have a priest. But Alan and most of his fellow students thought the guy was pretty creepy.

One rainy night the man offered to drive Alan home from class and no sooner were they in the car than the guy put his hand between the boy's legs.

"You're such a big, beautiful boy," the man said as he squeezed the front of Alan's jeans.

Alan had known it was coming all along but it was still a shock. The guy had been staring at his crotch while Alan sat in the front row of the classroom. He didn’t need to look in the man’s eyes to know what was there. The thoughts repulsed him and yet Alan found it exciting. Now the guy was groping at the swelling in his jeans, pulling down his zipper.

A hand slipped through the slit in his boxers and Alan shuddered, the guy was touching his penis. Should he let the man have it, maybe it would be fun? The man grasped at his soft flesh and Alan suddenly knew he couldn’t become aroused in this situation. Besides, this wasn't going to make him feel any better about himself. Alan laughed and pushed the man's hand away.

"Pervert," Alan yelled as he jumped from the car," go confess your sins to Father and see if he forgives you." With that he gave the man a little push with his mind.

The teacher looked horrified and accelerated his car away at such a speed that he failed to make the turn out of the parking lot. The crash into the oak tree by the entrance made a huge noise which was followed by silence.

Alan almost felt sorry for the creep as he turned away and walked past the front of the church. He looked up at the stained glass front and knew he wouldn't be coming back here again.

He walked home that night on the wet streets of his neighborhood and screamed with joy at the rain-swollen clouds above. The pressure of being different was suddenly gone from his life. That night Alan placed his entire burden of guilt on that dirty old man's shoulders and by doing so set himself free.

Being an only child wasn't easy. It didn't help that his parents tried much too hard to make up for the fact that he had no brothers or sisters. Of course they knew their son had been teased about his looks and that added to their guilt. It was quite a feat that Alan avoided being totally spoiled. He had eventually inherited his mother's proud Nordic features and yet he was rarely vain about his stunning good looks.

But he often posed in the mirror on the bathroom wall, flexing his adolescent muscles and watching his body grow. The face that stared back at him was pleasant. His parents hated all that long hair but Alan felt it was important because it made him look like all the other boys his age.

His body fascinated him, the very maleness of it felt so warm and appealing. He decided his penis was average in length. He knew this by comparing it with other boys he'd seen in the locker room. This very male ritual of exhibiting nakedness to one another was so thrilling and yet terrifying. What if anyone suspected? What if it gave him an erection?

He loved his parents but Alan was afraid they wouldn't love him if they knew of the turmoil going on in his head. There just weren't any queers in his family. Alan was afraid what would happen when it became known he was the first.

His family lived in Kensington, Maryland, a nice community a little ways north of Washington, D.C. Alan wasn’t allowed to go into the Washington by himself. His only forays into the Nation's Capitol were controlled little visits to museums and restaurants accompanied by his parents and the relatives who came to visit.

As he grew older he began to think that he might find the answers he sought somewhere in that city but for now he wasn't brave enough to go looking. Although his parent’s leash pulled him back at the District line, he had the run of the county in which they lived and Alan made the most of it.

When the Sommers family had moved into what was supposed to be a quiet middle-class neighborhood, Alan had soon discovered that in the woods behind his house was a creek that ran for miles. Meandering along the watershed down towards the Potomac River, this ever widening body of water and the woods surrounding it soon became his domain.

Alan's folks were fairly well off. His father had a decent career with the government and his mother stayed at home unless she was out doing volunteer work for the Church. But most of the families less than a mile away on the other side of those woods were working stiffs who struggled to make ends meet. Because of that, many of their kids had too much free time alone. Alan soon met many of these boys from the wrong side of the tracks out there in the woods.

Alan knew that all boys in junior high school thought about sex. Girls were the favorite topic of conversation. He joined in, trying to be like the others but his sexual tendencies towards boys grew stronger all the time.

As most boys his age didn't actually know what real sex was all about Alan was still safe. Alan was amazed at how perceptive he had become about other people's thoughts. The emotions and intentions of others were almost transparent to him. And it came as a shock when he discovered another boy was thinking similar thoughts to his.

Knowing someone was thinking about sex with other boys was thrilling. But first he had to know more about sex and what they might do together. Fortunately he stumbled across a treasure trove of knowledge.

Alan's grandfather had died years before but his grandmother still kept her den full of the good doctor's medical journals and reference books. A thoroughly wonderful room it was too, with shelves full of richly bound volumes, a compendium of human knowledge. Ever since Alan was able to read, these tomes of wisdom had fascinated him when they went to visit. His parents thought it was cute, maybe he would grow up to be a doctor like grandpa.

But hidden away in those mighty volumes was that special secret information Alan wanted, complete with graphic color photographs of unmentionable body parts. And one afternoon he found that special book hidden away on a bottom shelf, the one that had it all.

The book was called Sexuality and the Human Species by Dr. Melvin Stern. It was a veritable manual of sexual activity. Alan secretly tucked it under his shirt and took it off to his bedroom for a little midnight study.

He skimmed all the pages on vulvas and breasts, going straight for the penises and testicles. Such wonderful words and pictures of men with various sizes of equipment flooded his impressionable young mind. Sexual imagery that stayed with him long after all the glossy pages were turned and the chapters read. Alan even managed to sneak the fat volume into the bottom of his suitcase and take it home. It still lay hidden in his secret place, next to the box of condoms he’d managed to shoplift.

His favorite chapter was titled Homosexuality and the Deviant Nature of Man. Doctor Stern wasn’t a very enlightened physician, to him all homosexuals were perverts and deviant beings. But his words described behavior that made Alan tingle all over. Could men actually do that kind of thing to one another? Oh God, he hoped so because he was certainly one of them. At least Alan was forewarned about what to expect when he matured, now all he had to do was wait for the testosterone to kick in.

It might seem amusing that a thirteen-year-old child would crave an outlet for sexual desire by wading through the supposed wisdom of a not so modern medical practitioner. But what other source did Alan, or any other young boy, have to seek such basic knowledge? Everything was kept so securely hidden away, as if by denying its presence the whole issue might just disappear.

The public information Alan did find seemed to point out that queers were bad people. Despite what he read, Alan knew that kind of mentality was just plain wrong. There was nothing wrong with being queer. In fact there was nothing wrong with his mind at all. It was just better than everyone else's.

By the time summer rolled around events occurred that brought Alan's search for a sex partner to a sudden halt. His mother had become very ill and had to have an operation. Since his Dad was too busy to stay home and care for her she decided it would be best if they went off to Grandmother’s where she could recover after the surgery.

They packed off to Grandmother’s house in Louisville where he quickly got shoved aside in all the fuss over his mother. It was a relief and Alan did his best to become the invisible boy. All he had to do was take the bus downtown to the YMCA for a swim and then prowl the streets until suppertime.

"What kind of trouble could he possibly get into?" he overheard his Grandmother say to his father," he's a smart boy."

Their first Saturday in town started off warm and inviting. Dark green leaves on the trees over in Cherokee Park still glistening from an early morning shower. Kids were playing baseball in the fields and Alan was just another teenage boy standing at a bus stop.

He watched an elderly lady carry two shopping bags across the street and plop down on the bench behind him. Traffic was light but the bus was already running behind schedule and his watch said it was ten minutes late.

A green Plymouth pulled up at the curb in front of him and the high school boy behind the wheel smiled.

"Hey guy, is this the road to the U of K campus?" he asked. His mid-south accent told Alan he was a local boy.

"Uh, yeah. It’s about five miles down. Go past the hospital and turn right, you’ll see the signs." Alan said. Gosh, he thought, this guy is kinda cute.

"Cool…do you want a lift that way?" the boy asked.

Alan looked him over more carefully. The preppie looking boy seemed a little nervous but his eyes showed no threat.

"Sure," Alan said, "the bus is late anyway."

He hopped in the boy's car and they pulled away from the curb. As Alan leaned over to push down the lock button on his door he caught a look of disapproval on the old lady’s face. Little boys shouldn’t accept rides from strangers, he could almost hear the words forming in her head, but then they drove away.

It was about two miles down the road when the preppie put his right hand on the seat beside Alan's leg and steered with his left hand. Alan looked over at the preppie and their eyes met. He smiled. That look told him everything he wanted to know. In fact this boy's thoughts mirrored his own feelings at the moment.

They were approaching the hospital grounds, the very same one where Alan's mother was due to have surgery the following week. He had been over for a tour of the ward the day before and knew the layout.

"Pull in the parking lot down there on the right," Alan pointed.

Mr. Preppie was startled when he spoke but made the turn while Alan eased the pressure swelling in his jeans.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked.

"Follow the road and we’ll come to the doctor’s parking in back," Alan said.

"Does your father work here?" the boy asked.

"No, what’s your name anyway?" Alan asked.

"Steve," he replied.

"Mine’s Alan. Ok, Steve, are you by any chance queer?"

"Oh, no, I…" Steve started to say.

"Pull over there under those trees," Alan suggested.

Steve parked the car in what seemed to be the quietest corner of the lot and turned off the engine.

"Tell me Steve, if you're not queer then why do you want to get in my pants?" Alan asked.

He had to be the most precocious kid Steve had ever met, but Alan knew he wasn’t going give it up without some answers. And boy did they come tumbling out. Steve was so nervous at getting caught at the game he told Alan everything.

He had been in trouble when he was fifteen for fooling around with a young boy and the experience with the law had scared him to death. His whole life the past two years had been nothing but denial, and he just couldn’t accept the fact that he was queer.

"So you’re out chasing boys again?" Alan finally asked.

"I’ve been looking around, you know? I skipped work today just to go driving around so I could think and then I saw you," Steve said.

"I like boys too, Steve," Alan admitted," but I already know I’m queer."

Steve stared at him with wonder in his eyes and then he began to tremble. Alan knew he would always have the upper hand from then on.

"I can’t be doing this shit, I’ll get in trouble" Steve said. "You should just get out, I’m real sorry."

Maybe Alan should have just walked away but Steve was the most mature guy he had ever met. He wasn’t going to let this boy get away, not with the need he felt and the desire he saw behind those beautiful brown eyes. Alan looked around the lot, not a soul in sight. He turned back to Steve and his mind embraced the boy.

Alan lay back against the passenger door as Steve's face lowered between his legs. He lay his hands on Steve's head and stroked his fingers through the boy's hair. The feelings were just as he had imagined but his first encounter was over much too soon.

Although he had now experienced the act it left him unfulfilled. There was no feeling other than the passion Alan had created with his mind. Steve didn't love himself so how could he have shared that emotion with anyone else? Alan walked away from the car and caught the bus home. He knew Steve would cry when he left.

Alan withdrew into himself during seventh grade. Junior High seemed to have that effect on many students. There were no more sexual encounters like Steve. Instead there were a few occasions out in the woods when several boys got together and showed off their new found sexual prowess. Watching other boys masturbate didn't rank high on Alan's list of things to do so he stopped going.

He made new friends at school, tried to read the entire library and worked his tail off on the community swim team. All his frustrations were taken out at swim practice by knocking off the laps with a mind-numbing pace that left him exhausted but rarely satisfied.

The view in his bathroom mirror now showed a sleek, feline body that rippled with muscle when he moved. His skin tone was still less than a healthy pink but he knew that he looked closer to normal than he ever had. Now all he wanted was to feel normal in a world that didn’t know him very well at all.

The chaos really started when he began eighth grade. The Beatles were in, hair was longer, kids smoked pot in the basements of suburbia and the assassination of JFK would hold the country in deep shock for years. The wackiest decade in American history was now in full swing.

Alan had turned fourteen with the realization that life for him was sometimes like living a real funny nightmare. Adolescence had brought along all the comfort of taking a walk in an active minefield. It had been quite some time since Alan had any use for his perceptive gift. Maybe the pot he learned to smoke was suppressing it, he didn't care. The thoughts and emotions of others had become just plain boring, or maybe they were all just too stoned? Besides, Alan had too much on his own mind to care what others were thinking.

He knew he was queer, a faggot, a limp-wrist homo mother-fucker worthy of an untimely death. All these words and expressions his peers used to antagonize one another without ever realizing they had the real thing standing in their midst. Sometimes he just wanted to jump up on a table in the lunchroom and scream at them that he was queer. It would be a thrill for them to discover that he was the homo they disdained so much.

But instead he used that anger to push himself, and he made himself a promise. No matter how hard it got, or how long it took, he would be better than all of the straight boys around him. To accomplish that he stopped smoking pot.

He gained some small satisfaction when his first report card came out and A's filled the page. Being high on the honor roll gave him status even though the last thing Alan wanted was to stand out in the crowd. Deep in his mind he knew there was a purpose for his gifted talents, he was only waiting for someone to show him the way.



On to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

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Singer Without a Song is © 2005 - 2006 by Chris James.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.


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