Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction are posted and shared. They can be your own. They can be someone else’s. They just need to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples of LGBTQ+ fiction, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

For mine, Peter is picking off where he left off on Wednesday (QueerBlogWed) in Unwilling to Be Yours. Dealing with an unseen hostile presence, which seems to emit from a painting on the Navel’s wall…

It was hard to say what its subject matter was. Sometimes, I could make out the faint form of a boy, or was it a man?

Whomever he was, he got lost in all the colors in the painting.

The most dominant hue was a cold, whitish silver. I reminded me of bone, a knife, or a spider web, intermingling, yet somehow separate. Somehow hinting at sinister secrets the artist chose to taunt and terrify the viewer with.

None of these objects remained still or static.



Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed! A perfect day for the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, my second prelude to Tales of the Navel to emerge from this Cauldron.

Peter picks up right where he left off on Monday, learning about his new place of employment…only he’s having inexplicable problems.


Not all of the customers were as easy to please, but I could usually find what they wanted. As jobs went, it wasn’t bad.

If only the accidents didn’t keep happening. They were enough to bring on a permanent scowl, much as I try to avoid such ugly frown lines. These marks wrinkle a man’s soul, inside and out. All they do is increase his frustration.

Alas, there was a lot to be frustrated about.

I kept dropping things. Not intentionally, but my fingers would spasm. My reflexes were quick enough that I could catch whatever I dropped. It kept happening, almost like some invisible presence was harassing me.

Other times, things would fall off the shelves. Not too often, but whenever I was in range of anything that was close to a ledge.

These incidents happened, whenever I was close to a certain picture on the wall.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! A day to strut, promote, and celebrate your Me-ness!

Juno is more than happy to do this, while she gets to know Peter in the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, picking up where we left off on Saturday…

She inhaled the scent from the bag, savoring it.

I forced myself to smile, trying not to gag.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to think of something polite to say. Juno seldom gave anyone a chance to speak, when she was engaged in one of her long monologues. Especially about her husband.

“If only I’d had this tea long ago, it would have saved me so much trouble,” she enthused. “Not to mention it would have saved his strumpets a lot of pain.” A sinister twinkle appeared in her eye, hinting of a much darker intent linking behind her chatty cheer.

“It’s better not to ask too many questions of Juno, or about Juno,” Gabrielle whispered in my ear. “She may seem sweet and dim-witted, but she can be quite vengeful.”

Oh, my. I found myself becoming a little more watchful around this eager, friendly regular.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction is posted and shared. They can be your own. They can be someone else’s. They just need to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples of LGBTQ+ fiction, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

For mine, Peter picks off where he left off on Wednesday, meeting Juno, one of the Navel’s regulars. This is a little longer than six sentences, but it didn’t make as much sense, clipped shorter.

Some of the teas she requested had a delightful whiff of something almost like bergamot. I’d feel myself tearing up, remembering Paul’s graceful hands lifting a pot in his little garden refuge.

No, I’d tell myself. Don’t remember that.

Not that I needed to worry about it too often. Many of teas Juno asked me for smelled like something decayed and molding.

“They’re for my husband.” Juno would offer me a dimpled smile. “His eyes are always wandering, but if I give him a cup of the Navel’s tea, he becomes too drowsy to get frisky.”

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed! I should be back by now, although unforeseen circumstances could stop me. In light of that, I’m posting the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, just to be safe.


Fortunately, Hebe didn’t require me to say anything. As she grew accustomed to me, the tension between us eased.

There were other customers, who seemed much easier than Hebe, but grew more difficult with time.

For instance, there was Hebe’s mother.
Juno was a plump, little woman, always on the look out for teas and herbs. Finding what she wanted was much easier than serving her daughter.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday, although I’m not yet here for it. I should be returning in time for QueerBlogWed, barring any unforeseen circumstances.

In the meantime, Peter will continue to carry on at the Navel in Unwilling to Be Yours.


My instinct grew quicker and faster for finding the right one. I didn’t need to listen to the humming.

I’d find myself walking in a certain direction and simply reaching out for a shelf. My fingers found whatever she was looking for.

Hebe grew friendlier with every visit.

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you when we first met,” she confided. All the hard edges of her faces relaxed into something animated and interesting. “You reminded me of someone whose always been able to get under my skin, no matter how much I might wish him not to.”

“An old boyfriend, perhaps?” I couldn’t help arching my eyebrow in a slightly salacious fashion at her. Flirting was second nature to me, after all.

Besides, Christopher was forbidden to me.

“My father’s current boyfriend.” Hebe lifted her own eyebrow in her best returning sally, but her eyelid trembled. “You might say I not only lost my job, but my entire purpose, because of him.”

I opened my mouth and closed it. I really couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s another day of Rainbow Snippets, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction. Alas, I currently can’t play, but Peter is more than happy to carry on without me. He picks up right where he left off on QueerBlogWed in the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours…


His acknowledgment was the greatest challenge I faced in filling the vacancy at the Navel.

In other ways, the job wasn’t hard at all. I just needed to please the customer, no matter who or what s/he was.

My first customer came back, wanting yet another candle. I learned that her name was Hebe. She was always looking for candles or cups.


Unwilling to Be Yours

Another QueerBlogWed where I’m not here, but Peter is more than happy to carry on in my absence with the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours.


I scrambled off of him, before I remembered my manners.

I leaned forward to offer him a hand.

He stared at my fingers with the most heartbroken look of despair I’d ever seen.

Uh oh. I must have triggered a memory of the lost Damian.

“Never offer me a hand.” He lifted himself off the floor, nearly tripping over his own limbs. “I know better than to accept it, now.”

“Do you regret accepting his?” I’m not sure why I asked the question. It was tactless. It was pushy.

I didn’t take it back. I stood there, still holding my hand out towards him.
“Do you truly regret it?”

I half expected to have my hand slapped away. At the very least, I’d get a chilly retort.

Christopher didn’t slap me or snap at me. He raised his head, considering my words. He studied my fingers with a slow, lingering attention which was almost intimate.

If only he’d been looking at me. Not wishing for someone else.

“No.” The word was filled with unshed tears. “No, I don’t. He brought me into a whole new world.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “A world I’m glad to be a part of, even if he’s no longer in it.

“Don’t distance yourself from that world.” I wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but my mouth seemed to have a will of its own. “Not if you want to continue to be a part of it.”

He stared at me, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His lips parted slightly, as his eyelashes lowered.

“You’re right.” He turned away from me and walked in the other direction, leaving me with shattered rubble on the floor.

Ah well, its demise had been brought on by my own inattention.

I was strangely glad it had. This was the closest I’d come to getting a smile out of Christopher.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Another Me Me Monday with no me, but Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours continue their journey…


Christopher was right below the falling object. Lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to his own peril.

I lunged at him, shoved him out of the way, losing my own balance. The two of us fell.

The good news is we both landed out of range of the statuette, which hit the ground, shattering into pieces. None of the jagged chunks of fallen idol hid us.

The bad news, well, bad news for him was that I landed right on top of him.

For a moment, I waited, trembling, doing my best to shelter him, only to realize the danger was over.

Afterwards, I became acutely of Christopher’s slender form, squirming beneath me.

Needless to say, it caused a bit of a reaction.

“Do you mind?” Christopher’s exquisite little face was flushed. It was only too obvious to him how happy I was to get close to him.

“Sorry.” I felt my own face heat up.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Although I can’t be here for our weekly six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction, Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours are. 🙂 They’re picking up right where they left off on Wednesday, with Peter ogling the statuary…


No, I’m not joking. The head of a hen or rooster would be perched on top of a human body. Sometimes they were covered with feathers.

One black metal statue was almost all rooster, except for his his black metal chest. He would have been terrifying, except for the comedic way he opened his bill, as if on the verge of singing.

I remember my first look at him caused me to knock another figurine off a shelf.