Dick and Julian's cousin, Anne, lived two hundred miles away from the boys, up in Cumbria. Camping at Treboys was effectively the only time in the year that all Five were together. The winter had been long and tiresome as usual, and Spring had been late. June and July had come and gone, and suddenly school was forgotten as the Cornish breeze began to caress the faces of the youngsters as they stood together gazing at the West Penwith rocks below them………or should have been.

I was in the kitchen at Treboys washing Cornish earth off annoyingly small new potatoes for supper that night, and not a happy bunny by any means. Quentin had gone to collect what was to be the Four, not the Five. The previous evening, Quentin had had a 'phone call. Anne had contracted scarlet fever the previous week and, being very infectious and unwell, couldn't come down to Cornwall. Naturally she was desperately disappointed to lose her holiday with the others.

There was also another medical issue. Dick had had recurring infections in a very awkward place, resulting in an uncomfortable and not exactly beautifying procedure last January. In short, he was not happy about it, and had to be persuaded to come down to Cornwall. Medically speaking he was fine. There was no lingering discomfort…….it was just the look of the thing he didn't like, and consequently he didn't want seen.

I've never had issues of that nature, apart from being a late developer…….until recently. At last, things for me are moving forward in the right direction. Suddenly I'm a bigger boy in every way. At last I say. I've hit five feet in height, my voice has gone decidedly queer, my dinky little cock that used to point nicely forward has gained weight and gone ever so slightly droopy, my balls feel twice the size they were, and I want to do it just about all the time. In lessons I fiddle with my left hand in my pocket, and once I actually came during maths. As you know, I wear underpants to school. They do reduce the sensitivity in some ways, but they prevent embarrassment afterwards. The boy on the back row I sit next to in Maths has achieved that feat several times. On this occasion I was watching him hard at it, and thought I'd give it a go too. A few minutes later I knew he'd got a result. Truly inspirational! Terry had noticed my activity……

Indeed I had, to my great surprise and pleasure. That's boys for you. Filthy creatures!

We all ate in Quentin's kitchen that first evening. The tent had been extracted, smelling rather musty, from one of the spare rooms where I had packed it away the previous September. Everyone seemed a little different, except Quentin who was his usual thoughtful self. I have got to know him better now, and fortunately I still like him, but I am aware of what he is. I am quite prepared to cater for his desires up to a point, and he knows where that point is. I let him touch me now, but not in an intimate way……just an arm around me….that kind of thing. He's been kind to me, and I quite like it. I don't think he's interested in adult males, and as he states, he's not a homosexual. It's people like me he wants……particularly now……'on the cusp' as he calls it. At least he's honest about it. I'm thirteen now, and the 'cusp' has been a long time a'coming. Anyway, I'm there now, and I'm liking it. Sadly, Dick is not liking it.

'What do you want those for Dick?' I ask, pointing to a pair of navy blue swimming pants lying on the foam mattress which was yet to receive the top and bottom sheets I'm holding in my hands.

It's not a procedure I would want frankly, but if you have to have it done, then you have to have it done. Done in infancy, it's all you have ever known I suppose, so you accept it as the norm. There are quite a few circumcised boys at school, and no one says a dickie. Why would they? But if it happens at Dick's age, then that is a definite change, which I guess could be very upsetting when you are used to it looking and behaving one way, and then suddenly things are different. Basically, Dick wants to hide it away from society for the rest of his life. I don't think that's good for him, and he should get it out in the open…….literally. Anyway, I'm interested to see it. It might not be that bad at all. My thinking is that Dick is in need of some intelligent and sensitive rehabilitation, so here goes………

'No! It's horrible. No one is ever going to see it. I hate everybody! I hate being here, and I hate you. I hate the whole world and everything and every person in it. So there!'

'By the way, this is our bed Dick. Julian and George want the other one. I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Is that ok, or do you want a bigger space between us so you can be on your own?'

'Not really Dick. They've got things they want to talk about these days. That's fine Dick. I'm ok with it.'

'Yes I would, if you would too? I want to get our Dick back…….like he used to be. A proper Dick. Our Dick. We need him back with us…….the one we know….and love. It's just a bit of your body. No one sees it.'

Poor old Dick. It's going to take a little time, but I know he'll come around. He's that kind of a boy.

We took our evening bathe down at the cove. I wanted to see what Julian looked like a year on. He had a little dark hair just above and to the sides of his willy wonka which he didn't have last year, and some under his arms, and a trace of it in his bottom too. His penis hung down with a big vein going right along it, and the head poked through the skinny bit. It's bigger than last year. I'm sure it is. George has hair too, more than Julian has, and her titties stick out more now. At one point, Julian held her hand. If their parents could see that, they would have kittens. Dick sported his swimmers……small and rather tight ones that looked like the underpants he likes. We all knew why he was covered up. Poor old Dick.

We went to bed more or less straight after our supper which we had in the kitchen at Treboys. Quentin said that all our meals should be in there from now on. Without Anne to cook on the camping stove and fuss over us generally, none of us wanted the inconvenience of cooking outdoors. We were all rather quiet that evening. Bedtime came as a bit of a relief.

I watched Julian and George get into their beds, their foam mattresses almost together. George kept some very plain pale blue pants on that looked like she had borrowed them from Julian, but no tee shirt. Julian looked nice in his……not the same sort he had last year. They looked just like George's knicker things. I've wanted that sort for ages. Most of the boys wear that kind these days. I'd love some like that, but I don't know how to ask really.

Dick was already in bed. He watched me undress, which didn't take long. I wasn't going to keep my pants on. He just looked on, expressionless. I can imagine what he's thinking. I couldn't wait to get next to Dick…..the other side of him, next to the wall of the tent. Then Dick would have a choice…..either his back to Julian and front to me, or present me with his bottom. I don't mind which. In the meantime, the thought of being anywhere near the lovely Dick was exciting. My affaire last summer with Julian is obviously over. I'm not going to go on and on about how I feel. Of course I still love him, and the pain of not having him is like a spear thrust through the very centre of me. Julian has made things perfectly clear from the outset. Oh well.

My thoughts in Dick's direction were just beginning to manifest themselves in a physical way. Dick, lying on his side, was staring at me, or rather it, expressionless. I want sex of some sort these days quite badly, and I know Julian is now otherwise engaged, damn it. Dick isn't, and he's achingly attractive, weird willy and all. That's what he thinks, but I don't agree. I just want to make him happy again.

When I got in next to him, or rather near him as there is a slight gap between us, Dick is still looking at me intently. It's the first time I see him smile in ages. He's such a lovely boy, and it upsets me mightily that he's unhappy.

He smiles again, and I can see that remark has brought him to the edge of tears. He seems very stressed and I suspect everything is about to come out……and it does. Julian hears his little sqeaks of anguish as he tries not to make any sound while he weeps, poor boy. and turns towards us, vaguely concerned…….

'Yes, he's fine. He just needs to be left alone for a bit. Ok?' I say defensively.

Julian turns back over, message understood. Then Dick edges nearer to me, close enough in fact for my body to touch him. Partially recovered and feeling better for a few tears, he's noticed.

'No you're not. You know what you are. You're the opposite to ugly and you know it.'

I put my left arm around Dick's shoulder. His bofy feels wonderfully firm and warm. He opens his eyes and the look he gives me is a mixture of sadness and……..I don't know quite how to describe it…..a sort of wanting expression. He's had a few tears, but they have more or less dried up leaving a slight salty residue on his cheek. I run my hand down his back to check something. I was right. He'd kept his underpants on. I suppose that's all part of his loss of confidence.

I run my fingers through the hair covering his forehead. He likes that, and gives me one of his lovely smiles.

'You shouldn't cover him up. You'll give him a complex. He won't come out of his shell if you do that.'

Dick tries to suppress a laugh, but emits a stifled giggle. Things are improving.

'I will, you bad boy. Will you let me touch him? He needs a bit of comfort. I won't look.'

Dick turns partially onto his back and lifts up his hips in invitation. I use my free hand to rather clumsily pull down the cotton slip he's covered himself up in. In the process, I realise he's bone hard, and a real boy these days. What a difference a year makes. He uses his feet to get his pants down his legs and off his feet. I use my toes to capture the article and then a hand to bring it to the surface and under my chin. I'm half way there.

His mouth is open, and there's no expression. According to Julian, at his school, it's considered to be a very queer thing to want to do….taboo in fact. Hands are fine, but a mouth is something very different. Last summer I allowed Julian to touch me in that way……and returned the compliment rather ineptly.

'It's never not going to work if it's you doing it.' he said smiling and patting me on the head.'

Oh, I liked it alright, and every part of the process. Oddly, the end result wasn't always the same. I had heard that might have something to do with what he had eaten. Anyway, I'm wondering what Dick will make of it. Had brotherly love extended that far?

'Kiss it better?' I asked, my question barely audible. Dick's face is just inches from mine. There's no response in Dick's eyes at first, then moments later comes a slight nod of his pretty head, the hair over his forehead stuck to the skin.

I carefully wriggle myself into place, with my left hand gently pushing between his legs. Dick takes the hint and makes more space for my fingers to slide along his perineum and come to rest against the tightly closed anus. With my head level with his tummy button, I can now see my target. It will obviously need careful and sensitive handling. There's a long and livid looking scar there, made all the more dramatic by Dick's complete erection. Statistically, he's about four and a bit maybe, which for my purposes is perfect. But what are my purposes?

Of course I want to tell him that it's ok to be the way he is now…….that we approve…..that we will always be on his side……and that we love him unconditionally. I suppose it is a strange way to try to convey those feelings, but by offering balm to his injury seems appropriate somehow.

I know I'm not an expert at these matters, but I did my best to express my feelings for poor Dick. When I felt his hand intervene, it was time to let him go. It must have been at least ten minutes. With one last gentle kiss, I consigned the softening genitals to the palm of my hand. I wanted to see his face.

He was flushed and warm, his mouth open, and eyes half closed. He looked astonishingly beautiful at that moment, but I was worried that despite my gentleness, I might have hurt him somehow. I touched his lips with my fingers….and then his nose, and then his forehead, and then back to his mouth. To my relief, he smiles, eyes still just half open. I feel his hand on the back of my head, drawing me towards him. Our lips and the tips of our tongues touch for a few moments. Then…….

He's the sweetest thing on earth right now. I'm completely over Julian……I think.

I wake early with Dick clamped onto my back, with warm hands over my shoulders. At the risk of waking him, I feel behind me to see what state he is in. Oh yes. I had had nothing by way of relief the night before, unlike my lovely friend, so I'm contemplating a very quick fix. Our bodies have scant support on these basic foam mattresses so any movement is going to go unnoticed by the others, but I'm thinking about the opportunities this morning might bring. The tent feels warm and I know the weather will be kind today so a swim down at the cove is a certainty. I turn over carefully so as not to disturb Dick. I can see George and Julian lying on their backs with a little space between them, the sheet lowered to reveal their tummies and chests. Dick has turned onto his back. I can't resist a peek at him. What a beauty! It's no good…….I have to.

As I turn onto my back, I feel Dick's hand on my tummy. I look to my right to see his eyes just open, and the sweetest smile you could imagine. He moves closer as our faces can touch now. My instinct to make love to him and with him is overwhelming. We immediately feel for each other. He's in the same state as I have been for a little while now. His hand is teasing me as it gently roves round and across my body feeling my hardened nipples and giving me the most excruciating pleasure. Finally his fingers enclose what I have been waiting for.

With my head turned to the right, I can see above Dick's head, and George and Julian still on their backs. I'm sure they are still asleep. I lower the sheet that covers Dick and I so we are both uncovered. The process is painfully slow, but when Dick lifts his face towards mine, and our mouths touch, my body is now beyond my control. As our tongues touch, so I feel myself falling into the void……a kind of crushing intensity made all the stronger and deeper for the love I now have transferred to my beautiful friend. I have so much love to give, there just has to be someone…..a recipient if you like…….someone who will accept me for what I am. I find myself floating on a cloud with him in my arms forever. Perchance to dream?

And so pass the heady days of high summer in Cornwall, spiced by the scent of rosemary and verbena bonariensis and all the other wonderful flowering plants that abound in Quentin's garden, surely there to encourage romance. The Cornish coast is made for romance. There is so much history here….so much heroic tragedy. I think I'm just part of it. Another player who wanders the moors and rocky beaches looking for love that we may, or may not find.

Quentin always insists on the Latin names for his precious plants. One or two I can remember. What pleasure it is to lie under the tamarisk as it waves it's feathery mauve fronds in the breeze. But as every Cornishman knows, the weather can indeed be cruel and unforgiving to the moorland walker as much as it is to the seafarer. How brave is the thrift to stand firm and brightly pink on a rocky ledge with her many faces turned back against a Cornish gale. But for us the thick granite walls of Treboys provided our security when the rain ladened wind threatened to carry our tent into the wild Atlantic.

But there are very few days when the cove fails to provide safe bathing for us……three boys, one girl, and her dog. Dick has recovered his equilibrium, more or less, and has regained his confidence which had been badly dented by his unpleasant experience, albeit a medically necessary one by all accounts. He joins us now at the cove, naked as we are, and proud to be seen. And so he should be, in all his beauty. It's wonderful to see him back to his old self.

Although Julian and George seem preoccupied with each other, both having entered that navel-gazing adolescent phase, we are by no means two separate 'couples'. Julian and Dick are brothers who get on well as a rule, and find times when they want to be together and away from George and I. I think George finds me less than interesting possibly because we don't share the same kind of background or 'posh' accent, although I do my best, deferentially, to ask her the kind of questions that she would want to answer. To be honest, it makes me feel uncomfortable. My teacher tells me that I have 'a native intelligence' rather than an applied one, whatever that means.

Meanwhile, Julian, George and Timmy have settled into a routine of long walks along cliff tops and into wooded valleys to explore and be together. I have never quite understood their relationship which seems to have transcended the physical. They talk of poetry and books, and occasionally persuade Quentin to take them in the car to the library in Wadebridge to play with one of those new computer things, leaving Dick and I to our own adventures. When wind and waves allow, I'll row the dinghy out to the small island they called Kirrin. It takes less than ten minutes to clamber around it, dominated as it is by the ruined stone barn that once in their imaginations was a castle. The Five must have had so much fun with their made-up adventures, very few of which I was privy to thank goodness. As the Good Book says, we must all put away childish things…….and move on. We are of course in reality children now, and will be until we are sixteen? Is that right? Or is it eighteen? So instead of little boys' and girls' games of hide and seek, we embark on new adventures focussed largely on our bodies and our emerging sexuality. It's a tough ask to ignore what is happening to us. This seems to have been the summer of discovery. We've been given the books and had the excruciating lectures, and now we are finding out for ourselves. We have learned that kissing makes our penises go hard, and that when our tongues touch, it feels good. We know what our sperm feels like in our fingers, and even tastes like. I know how many holes there are in a girl's body, and how they are arranged, and what they are for. I know more than one way to make a boy feel very nice……and slowly until he begs me to finish matters. I have even seen with my own eyes how a girl can give herself pleasure. I know that a boy can be pleasured both front and back…….both forward and reverse if you like. We are coming of age, and our innocence has been torn away, willingly, wantonly, like seaweed from a rock in a gale. What bliss is our voyage of discovery, and how painful too.

Alone in the garden this morning, Julian has asked me, just three days before their holiday ends, if I hate him for what he did to me, abandoning me emotionally as he has done. I wasn't ready for that question. Of course I don't. We were special friends last summer, and this summer things have changed. It was all a natural progression for him. I understand that. Julian wanted to move on and………Dick had a problem and needed a friend……..not his brother but someone else who would keep an eye out for him, and maybe a bit more. In Julian's eyes, that person was me. I suppose I should have taken it as a compliment, but at the time I was hurt by Julian's desertion. However as things have turned out………….

'I'm sorry Alf that I did that to you. I know I hurt you. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve being ignored like that. It was bloody rude of me.'

'Don't worry about it.' I said, seeming not to care. Of course I did care. I had welcomed the Five, or rather the Four back to Treboys this year, thinking that Julian and I would carry on where we had left off the previous summer.

'And thanks for looking out for Dick. He wasn't himself when we came down, what with his operation and things. It was all pretty horrible for him. Anyway, thanks.'

It went on like that for five minutes, both of us getting more and more angry with each other. Arguing turned to shouting and then Julian, totally out of the blue, aimed a punch at my face. I managed to get my head out of the way…….almost. He caught me a glancing blow on the cheek. As he threw himself forward, I managed to grab an arm and unbalance him. As I pulled him towards me, I put a foot out in the time-honoured way boys do when they fight and try to get their opponent onto the floor. He fell onto the grass with me landing on top of him. We lay there panting from the physical shock of it all, not to mention the sudden emotional trauma.

Neither of us thought about it for a single moment. We just did it. I kissed him, and instantly, he kissed me back. It was rather a frenzied and messy business I'm afraid.

Out of breath now, I feel his hand slip under the elasticated waistband of my shorts. I almost laughed as he struggled to get his hand in there. We lie still. The feel of his hands is reminding me of past times. I'm excited beyond my comprehension, and my body is responding rapidly. So is his. Standing up now, we look at each other and laugh. Our short trousers are straining to contain our excitement. It all looks faintly ridiculous. Neither of us have any sort of a tummy, slim legs, and precious little fat on our bodies. Julian is noticeably large these days, as the tip of his penis almost protrudes out of the right opening of his shorts. I can't resist him, as I enclose him with my left hand and squeeze him hard. There's no give in the thing at all. He's bone hard. And that's not all.

Seconds later he is asking me if I would possibly allow him, one last time, to go back to the tent with him. I know what he means by the invitation, at least I'm assuming the best possible outcome. Dick and George were already off on some jaunt with Quentin. I am in tears by this time, as is he. I think our emotions are a mixture of regretting what we had missed in the past weeks, and the fact that it was never going to happen again. But maybe I've got that wrong. Surely not?

On the way back to Treboys, Julian kept his hand inside my shorts but outside my pants, and firmly against my buttocks, and at times rather tantalizingly in between them………and kept it there most of the way back. Suddenly Julian had seized a dominant role. He was going to be in charge of everything until the moment he and his brother and cousin left Treboys for the last time……in just three days.

If ever there was a time when I felt like the poor village boy, it was at this moment. Julian had the power afforded by his status…….the right way to speak……the right connections……everything was in his favour. I felt like the maidservant on the stairs when the Master lifts up her skirts and slips his hand roughly between her thighs to feel her sex, and she just has to accept his advances. I knew what was coming my way, and I wanted it. Whatever he wanted, he was going to get it. Make no mistake about that.

The car was gone from the gravel driveway at the back of the house, so we were on our own to make as much noise as we liked. Julian needed to get something from the house, so I was first in the tent that smelled warm and of bedding that was due for the laundry. I lay down on Julian's mattress, not mine. I knew Julian would want me on my back and would want to remove the three items of clothing I'm wearing, and then survey my naked body. It's very much part of things for Julian. Then slowly Julian will reveal himself and begin the process of filling the void that is I.

I've learnt something of the art of love making over the years since that summer long ago. It's far better if you take things slowly…….if you can, and then the excitement of imminent sex doesn't take over too soon. I've found that the end result is more satisfying and the feelings of well-being far deeper when the final consummation is preceded by gentle and sensitive acts of mutual appreciation…….kind words spoken and underpinned by a prolonged period of non-sexual touching.

I was expecting Julian to be quite rough with me, a common fisher boy that I am, but what happened that warm late August afternoon on the north coast of Cornwall in a tent was nothing like that. Just the opposite actually. I think Julian's outrageous behaviour when he had lashed out with a fist aimed at my head had upset him badly, and when he entered the tent to find me lying waiting for him, he was nothing but sweetness and light.

We had some minutes of lying side by side exchanging smiles with very few words spoken. We didn't need words and the gentle touches offered to each other were our way of making up for what we had missed in the weeks that seemed to have flown by.

Naked, I roll Julian onto his back and as he raises his bottom, and I carefully remove the little clothing he wore. What I reveal is no surprise to me. His hands are behind his back as he smiles back at me. Kneeling between his legs, what I see before me looks at beautiful as ever. I'm going to tease him for a while. I roll his balls in my fingers, and deposit some saliva around his now exposed corona.

I laughed at his joke. It can't be much fun at our time of life having a name like that.

'You put that blanket up, remember? I can't see what you are up to, even if I wanted to……which I wouldn't.' I'm quick to point out.

George and Julian had strung up a blanket to act as a visual barrier in the tent. It worked to some extent, but you can still hear the tell-tale sounds. Oddly, the sounds George made when she was quite obviously reaching her climax, made me hard. I just the thought of any kind of sex going on I suppose…..even that.

'I pretend to watch her do it. I'm prepared to hold her other hand. She's a lefty……as you know.'

I lay on my side, knees pulled up high so Julian could get his last sight and feel of me there. I felt the coolness enter me. It was exquisite. His preparation of me is sensational in the extreme.

He's on his back again and astride him in readiness, I gently eased myself down and onto him while he holds himself upright. Julian has a little way to go before he can call himself a man, thank goodness…….in that sense. As I feel his hands press into my sides, and after a few attempts, we are now fully and deeply coupled. It's time to rest and take stock of where we are and what we are doing.

I carefully extricate myself from Julian and flop onto my back. His entry, aided by further anointment, is easier than my over-ambitious effort. Coupled again, Julian seems in no hurry.

Julian smiles….and then the smile disappears. There's that far-away look that I recognize as he begins to push hard into me. I can just reach his buttocks. It's blissful, and I can just reach far enough to give him what he's giving me, only less so, if you see what I'm driving at. I can tell he's enjoying matters, as I reach into him. As I turn my head sideways I can smell the blue canvas wall of the tent a foot or so away. I've decided, for our swan song, what I want to explore for the first time in my life.

It's all as easy as you like now. Re-annointed, I feel him enter me for the third time. This time it feels different……better in fact. It has to be the angle he's at now. I know he's liking it too. I'm feeling marvellously dominated by my friend. It's an odd thought but even this is making a difference. He is superior to me in so many ways, which I don't mind in the least. I'm so glad that he wants me, especially this way. I know something else too. It's working already.

It happened the first time we did it like this, but my little accident didn't matter. The second time it didn't happen…….not for me.

Julian stretched out his hand to grab the underpants I had taken from him. I put them between my body and the pillow that my middle was resting on. I arranged the garment to catch anything and everything in the event of another 'accident'.

Julian seems inspired by our positional adjustment. It's pure animal lust. As for me I'm here to take whatever he meats out to me. There's nothing I can do to stop him now, even if I wanted to, and I certainly don't do anything to discourage him. I know it's going to happen this time for me as well as my lover. In fact I'm sure it's already started.

He's talking to me now. The words are loud and unkind. He's calling me names…….horrid things……….exciting things about me. The domination is utterly thrilling. I have a desperate need to be noisy.

I can barely hear him now, as I enter the bright room. I'm standing in another place wrapped in light and warmth, because the glowing fire has taken hold of me…….the fire inside me. I can't stop it. It's getting too strong. It's started and I can't control it. It is the end of the beginning. It's an event I can never forget with a person I can never forget. I stand now looking at the bright light, and the strange misty horizon as I walk slowly towards a new life.

Three mornings later, we said our goodbyes. Stiff upper lips were kept, and my tears were saved for later. George looked after Dick. It was his face that I saw last, looking back from the back window of Quentin's car as it made its way up the uneven track, Wadebridge bound, and for George, Dick and Julian, thence to London by the midday train. The afternoon spent with Julian had been in my mind as I slept next to Dick those last two nights. I didn't disappoint him, and acquiesced to his various desires and demands. Who wouldn't have done. It was the sweetest pleasure.

The next two days I spent not far away from the washing machine. They had left enough articles of clothing to fill a moderately sized lost property basket. Not to worry. With the start of a new term looming, their mummies will kit them out with new, no doubt. As for me, I can use most of their cast-offs. I shall view it as a useful saving. Posh boys' clothes for the Cornish fisher boy. How perfect is that.

The sheets and pillow cases are dry now. I've checked the line, and the pegs are back in the peg basket. The other things are folded and safe in a drawer, apart from what I can use. They are no use to Quentin. They are to me…….little night time memories perhaps, at the very least…….something under the pillow I can rest my head on as I dream of what has been, and will be no more.

Quentin helped me with the tent. There's a large hessian bag for the steel poles and another canvas bag for the inner lining. The main cover just folds up. The whole lot will go back in the spare room and perhaps never be used again. That's a sad thought.

Summer turns to autumn, and autumn turns to winter, with its attendant gales and threatened flooding of Cornish villages where rivers funnel through them wanting to carry people and their houses far out to sea. Spare a thought for those who go fishing for a meagre living. Listen for the voices of those men and boys who never returned from the sea to their loved ones. Spare a thought for those who have lost loves. You can see one, in yellow oil skins if you look hard, down on the beach coiling a rope, stacking boxes, or pulling hard at a net. Spare a thought for that boy in yellow.

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.^* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

^* Some browsers may require a right click instead

The Five

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 4

The following August.