“Write this down. This will become your first published story.”
That’s what my brain told me after waking up from a disturbing nightmare.
In it, I was exacting some measure of justice on my two brothers, both older but not necessarily wiser, at least when it came to “how to treat your youngest brother.”
Yes, I was at least a part-time sissy.
And yes, we grew up in Indianapolis in the 1960s and ’70s, when being a part-time sissy was looked down upon by just about everyone, from the brothers in my family to the bruthas known as our peers.
But the sissy known as kid me did not see “historical context” as an excuse to be treated so badly by my full-time brothers.
Needless to say, circa 1990, in my late-twenties, I still harbored some resentment.
Truth be told, it wasn’t the first bad dream I’d had involving my brothers. Nor was it the last.
But this one was different. Or perhaps I was different. Either way, I obeyed my brain’s command. I put the dream to paper, so to speak (on a Magnavox VideoWriter!), and almost immediately, a short story was born.
“Hostage” takes place in the bedroom three brothers shared growing up.
LeRon arrives at the family home after a devastating doctor’s visit. His mother is out. His two brothers are home.
What follows is a “discussion” about homosexuality, AIDS, masculinity, family, and late-80s rap music—at gunpoint.
In 1990, I “wrote this down” and submitted “Hostage” to an anthology called Certain Voices.
In 1991, “Hostage” became “my first published story,” just like … fate? … dreamed it up.
In 2016, “Hostage” became available as an ebook, allowing me a moment of reflection and gratitude for Certain Voices.
In 2026, “Hostage” has a brand new cover and is now available as an paperback, ebook, and audiobook.
Three brothers in a bedroom. One of them holding a gun.
Years ago, someone approached me about turning the story into a one-act play. Which made me realize: They’re right! “Hostage” is a one-act play.
Something else the writer-in-me realized over time: I like putting my characters in containers. A bunker. A facility. A complex. A barracks. Some place people have to figure shit out.
In “Hostage,” the container is the bedroom. The bedroom is the stage.
35 years later, the issues the brothers in “Hostage” confront haven’t disappeared. Families still struggle with sexuality. Boys still struggle with the rules around masculinity. Old wounds still follow children into adulthood. And HIV/AIDS, although transformed by medicine, remains part of the lives and history of millions of us.
So maybe “Hostage” has more life to live.
Maybe my first published story will one day turn into a one-act play. Or maybe something more.
Dreams do come true.