The Rest is Illusion CH 1 EXCERPT

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Eric Arvin | 1


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2 | The Rest is Illusion

YOUNG OFFENDERS MEDIA

PROUDLY PRESENTS

The Rest is Illusion

a novel by

Eric ArvinCHAPTER 1 EXCERPT


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Eric Arvin | 3

YOUNG OFFENDERS MEDIA

Copyright 2010 by Eric Arvin

Foreword by Salvatore Sapienza

Tree Photo by John Wesley Ervin

Cover Design by Pat Nelson Childs

Original Edition Copyright 2006 by Eric Arvin

Published by Booklocker.com, Inc. 2006

Published in the United States of America by

Young Offenders Media, Port Jervis, NY. 12771

ISBN: Softcover 9780984510900

EBook 9780984510917

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010925523

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any

manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews

This work is a work of fiction. All characters are invented. Any resemblance to

persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, visit

Young Offenders Mediawww.youngoffendersmedia.com


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EXCERPT from

Chapter 1 Revelation

And so as Dashel Yarnsbrook stood naked above his piledclothes from the day before, the frustration of unanswered

questions gnawed at him. Never knowing the conclusion to hisminds repeating manifestation was irritating, but surely therehad to be a reason; a grand and hidden finis. There was aresolution tucked deep in his subconscious, and it was theright ending. Dashel liked to think that everyending was theright ending. There was always a supposed to be.

There hadto be...His eyes rose to the high brownish ceiling of the room as

he stretched out kinks from muscles and bone. Why was his

room so dull and tiresome? Like a shoebox used to temporarilyhouse a captured amphibian. He could drown amidst the wallsand carpet that very nearly matched the dragging, muddycolor of the ceiling. Indifferent. Apathetic. He had, of course,tried to decorate and make the room more pleasant andlivable. Hung with thumb tacks, nails, and gum were variousmismatched embellishments to displace the boredom thespace naturally exuded posters, prints, party lights in theshapes of bell peppers, a crudely constructed bar with glossybottles set in a diagonal design but Dashel still chokedthrough the hampering brown beneath. The disappointmentwas always there. Every morning as the sun tried to light theroom, blas mixed paint and carpet fought it off.

Though Dashels bed had not been used during the night,the other bed in the room was empty and unmade. Its brightlycolored covers almost glowed, a twisted mess tumbling to thefloor. The wheels from a pair of inline skates peeked out from

beneath the bed. Dashels roommate, Ashley, was already atclass by this time. He had stayed out all night, for certainly ifhe hadnt, he would have found Dash on the carpet andtucked him into bed, or at the very least, thrown a blanketover him.


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Eric Arvin | 5

It was Ashleys determination and perseverance thatappealed to Dash. Dashel had found in Ashley a greatroommate and a better friend. In their fraternity, SigmaGamma, they knew they were the two outsiders, the ones set

apart. Together they challenged the quips and snide remarksof hypocritical bystanders. So they had gelled, Ashley theAlbino and Dashel the Fag.

Dash looked at his nude self in the mirror on the door. Hispenis stood erect, begging to be touched or stroked, though itwas only the morning blood rushing where it would. Dash feltunimpressed with sex of late; he looked at his reflection withno more than a passing sigh.

His fingers strummed over the ribs that were, day by day,more evidence of his illness, a steady drop in weight that couldnot be explained away by his track career. Especially since hehadnt run all year, his defined musculature was fading. Histrack team physique was disappearing. He rubbed hisabdomen in disappointment.

He wrapped the towel from the end of his bed around histhinning waist, tying it tight so there would be no chance of ahallway slipoff. A shower might make him feel more at ease. It

might dissolve, just for a small time, the idea of the wastingaway; his fathers dangerous genetic gift to him. That was the worst part of every day. The thinking of it; the idea itself.Symptoms passed, lingering for small pockets of time, but theperceptible reminders were the true villains of disease.

They chipped away at hope.Not until the previous summer had the terrible news come,

but he didnt want it to matter. There were a few days of afloating disbelief before he came back down, and then he

continued with his life as he always had, using the illness as aprop a rickety catapult to make sure he got somethingaccomplished before it was too late.

Beside the bed, his desk leaned against the tacky fraternitywall, a handmedown from his fathers days at Verona. It wasold, wobbly, and comfortable, with wood that had faded from adark brown to a whispering tan. Above it hung a poster ofBerninis David slinging the rock at the giant PhilistineGoliath. A computer and piles of notes were strewn and

unevenly stacked on its surface. There was not an inch tospare and the research had spilled over onto the floor.

Every word written and copied on the pages was for anIndependent Study course on the nature of God and truth, the


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structure of belief. Dash had decided on theology as his major,not because he was a particularly religious person, norbecause he was ill and needed some divine insurance. No, hehad declared theology as his major the first year.

He set to work on his thesis, giving the proposal first to Dr. True for his goahead. Of course, Dash told the professor, itwas all theoretical, the study of how the dying or the horriblyill curse or embrace God and their truth. Merely an interestingidea.

So, there were stacks and stacks of papers and books andcharts and polls everywhere in the dorm room... and Dash wasworking and writing all the time. Since the news, he no longerparticipated in any of his sports, nor did he show up tomeetings of Love Out Loud. Even his fraternity house dutiesgot shirked. His attention was devoted entirely to thecompletion of his paper.

Such determination, everyone said. You gotta respectthat.

He used to be so much fun. Ill be glad when hes throughwith that paper!

They had no idea just how far he still had to go, how much

writing and thinking and questioning still remained. ForDashel there was too much to say, too many big, thick wordsto proclaim, and a growing uncertainty of how to shout them.

He turned the cold knob on the door and walked barefootand preoccupied down the carpeted hallway to the dingyshower.

This had not been a good year, he thought. Not by anymeans; forces pulled at him the sickness as well as what hadoccurred the previous spring...with Wilder Rawls.


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Eric Arvin | 7

Critical Acclaim for The Rest is Illusion!

[Arvin] channels Christopher Rice to create an engaging debut...with adecidedly early VC Andrews vibe...a gripping tale thats at once edgy andheartrending. [Arvin is] an old soul literary auteur who clearly loveslanguage and the symmetry of words. His prose is lyrical, rich in imageryand poeticism. Its a carefully orchestrated ballet of literary decadence andnarrative restraint.

Vince Liaguno, Dark Scribe Press

...an unusual tale told with dramatic flair...for someone looking for a storythats a little bit different than the usual fare. [Arvin] brings his unique giftfor lurid description to every page....He transports his readers to another

world, recognizable and tangible, yet sufficiently different as to be uniqueunto itself. Reading [his] descriptive narrative is like watching a paintingappear, one stroke at a time, until a masterpiece has been completed.

Andrew Barriger, Author ofFinding Faith

Once in a while a book by a first time author knocks me out. The Rest is

Illusion does just that....coming of age stories are so plentiful that it isrefreshing to get one that has something new to say...a beautiful swan diveinto the pool if literature.

Amos Lassen, Literary Pride

...a magical debut [with a] haunting climax...it has more in common with John Irvings A Prayer for Owen Meaneythan any of the countless frothyurban gay dramadies on the market these days.

Blake Fraina, Author ofKing of Cats

Lifeaffirming...Comingofage novels seem to be a dime a dozen thesedays. It takes something special to make one stand out, and somethingspecial pretty much describes The Rest is Illusion. Some of the im-agery...almost left me breathless.

Josh Aterovis, Author ofReap the Whirlwind

AVAILABLE MAY 25, 2010

The Rest is Illusion CH 1 EXCERPT

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