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    High School Preachers
    High School Preachers
    High School Preachers
    Ebook67 pages1 hour

    High School Preachers

    By Kyler Doss

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    About this ebook

    A serious boy gets sidetracked by the draw of other boys - when he is supposed to be competing as a high school preacher. As talented a preacher as Micah is, he is sick of it. He finds more than he can handle when he chases something exciting on the Left Coast, something everybody back home will tell him is immoral.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKyler Doss
    Release dateJan 3, 2020
    ISBN9781938181139
    High School Preachers
    Author

    Kyler Doss

    Kyler Doss has got a pocketful of chocolate milk receipts from the bus depots he has gone through. His note on the reverse side of one of the receipts: Arizona rules. A graduate of the University of Arizona, Kyler writes fiction that is set in a lot of places - the coming-of-age stories boys in love would recognize on any map you can google or unfold.

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      Book preview

      High School Preachers - Kyler Doss

      1

      Christmas

      I HATED what my parents were doing to me. They told me my future was set, that I was called to preach the Gospel. No two ways about it. And since I wasn't allowed to have my own opinion, then I would never tell them how I really felt. I didn't want the future they said was mine.

      They said it was mine but I didn't recognize myself in it. What I really wanted to try out was what they said was immoral. Even though I didn't know exactly what that could be, I knew I would come up with something. There was a lot to choose from because in their world just about everything was immoral. Maybe I could just be who I was, which could turn out to be the greatest crime of all.

      What was going on now was that I had come to the coast to win a preaching competition for high school boys, seniors. Maybe some of them were juniors, I didn't know for sure. I did know I had never lost one of these things. I also knew I didn’t care anymore.

      Not far from the beach where I was standing, there were these railroad tracks. Two trains had come by in the span of about half an hour, one for freight and the other for passengers. It didn't make any difference to me who was on board. I just wanted to know they would be so far down the line in a day or two that if they thought about me at all they would forget who they thought I was.

      I was actually a kid who wanted to be normal. I didn't want to be a kid with a calling, responsible for the serious business of people's souls. But you couldn't very well tell the truth of how you felt when you would be accused of turning your back on God.

      The train tracks, cut in the side of a hill, were a good 20 feet higher than the beach. All you had to do was climb up there and hop a freight, or so I've heard. They even ran in winter, a fact I needed to know.

      Christmas was over but New Year's hadn't come. I had never been to a New Year's Eve party, at least not the kind with alcohol. At home we celebrated things in prayer. I didn't know what they would do here.

      Although I was very cold, I held my place on the beach. A light rain was stinging the sand, as if the sand could feel. It couldn't, of course, and neither could I.

      Nothing seemed real in the wintertime. It seemed to me that the people responsible for the beach would be coming along any minute now to put it in the back of a truck. Summer was the true time of beachcombing, the time of finding unexpected things. There was nothing here for me, and no one around.

      The building where they sold lemonade had padlocks on the doors and shutters. I didn't know if they really sold lemonade but I wanted to think they did. There were many things I wanted to believe but none of them would change the dark, the rain, or the competition I had come to win.

      I was here alone except that there were a lot of people who had come here for the same reason as me. If you were involved in church activities, then your parents would let you travel by yourself, even to the immoral cities of the Pacific Coast. I didn't know what was immoral about this one. It only seemed kind of dismal to me in the total gray of its clouds, especially with nightfall coming on.

      A hotel room was waiting for me but I didn't want to go there. I had met this one guy over there in the lobby when we were standing around waiting for whatever was supposed to come next. His name was Daniel. All he wanted to talk about was salvation, which was fine. It was just that I talked about that all the time and I wanted to get out of there and go to the beach or something.

      I found it by walking north, where the sailboats were parked. I forgot the word they used for that but I did know what a jetty was, huge rocks that protected the boats. A red light on the jetty marked the end of the piers. Beyond that it was pretty much the open sea. The beach I found looked out on it, though there were islands or something out there, more obstacles to the Pacific.

      Rain was coming down in a misty form, not the kind of rain we had back home, where you ran for cover and never made it. This rain, you could ignore. I walked now from the lemonade shack toward the water. Because of the winter sundown, it was already too late to get a look at anything, no matter what I thought I was looking for.

      But it seemed like somebody had found me. He must have even followed me, which was worse than being found by chance. About 20 yards

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