Gnar

Before there is any reckoning of before, two species meet.

Gnar…

…began as an explosion in the back of his throat, rose nasally to end in a growl that struck fear wherever it was heard.

It announced him, softly, distantly when pursuing a meal, loudly when bashing with wood, smacking with rock, ripping with teeth. Fish got bashed or skewered when he wielded a thin stick. So did four-leggers that were close enough. Stick first, rock to kill. Sometimes fast-flutterers.

Zissh was his sound when spitting scales. Brrr or prrrr or pffft, the sound of feathers leaving his lips. Haack and ulp the noises he made throwing up creature-guts.

Gnar learned slow-ly.

The sky’s fire-arm struck a leaf-stand where he left a bloody haunch, charring it. The odor – the most wonderful ever – crept in Gnar’s nostrils. Drool eased the easy-gnaw flesh down where it belonged.

E-e-a-a-t-t. G-o-o-o-d.

Belched. Lay down. Slept.

Waked, agog.

Another, not like him! Reedy, no-fur, hunn-gry eeaat-ing his goood!

With a Gnarrrh! he bolted on his fours. Grabbed his goood and the other. Its eyes full of water. Its sound M-m-me-b-b-b-b-o-y! b-b-b-b-o-y!

Gnar?

Two no-flesh arms tried – hungh? – to take. Yes the gooood but Gnar too. His strong arms.

Hunnngh?

Air-place wet.

Confusion. Gnar look at b-b-boy eyes. Push gooood to mouth. Goooood! E-e-a-t.

More wet. Hands squeezing his arms.

His life – find food, eat, drink, piss, shit, sleep, find food, eat, drink, piss, shit, sleep, find food…

Gnar understood nothing. Face making rain? Could barely form an idea about another. Person? What was that? This one – pale, skin-and-bones, hair only on head, under arms, between legs and not much. This thing, clinging and crying. Hungry. Chewed meat in small bites.

Finished, the thing showed its teeth – not as a threat. What did it mean? Gnar showed his teeth when sounding his Gnarrr as he killed food.

The thing’s teeth were covered by lips which neared his face alarmingly. Before he knew what was happening, the lips touched his face.

It wanted to eat him? Both arms hurled the thing away.

More crying. It crawled back, funny noises aimed at Gnar – Help – Help me – me b-boy. Help boy. Then a long sound from its air-place – Pleeeeaase.

The late-Neanderthal’s brain, unused to newness, had difficulty forming ideas that might include this thing. It made so many sounds. His few were all he needed. Almost without emotions, Gnar knew not what to make of being clung to, of being entreated with odd noises – all soft. What was b-boy?

His mouth smacked. He chewed lightning-seared haunch. B-boy, less nervously, cringed still.

Gnar? B-boy made his sound – go up. The first question ever in Gnar’s life.

Nngh – he grunted. Recognition. Strange in him.

Gnar shifted legs, rolled back. B-boy stretched. Hair on Gnar’s bristly air-place. Nestled.

Nngh.

Dark sky. Big wet. Paw-clasped gnawed haunch, body on legs. Pushed B-boy up rocks, under ledge, in cleft. Refuge – for both.

Both. New, dim thought. Sky noise. Angry. Fire-arms far. Wet. Wet. Gnar arm hugging B-boy. Wait. Wet. More wet.

Hnnnh. Hnnnh. He droned. Hnnnnnh. B-boy lips to neck. Not bite. Good?

* * * *

Storm over, they stood. Unsure. Gnar offered his meat. Saw B-boy expose teeth again. Shake head. Lips kissed his arm. Good.

B-boy eyes opened wide. He pointed. In blue air colors curved. B-boy pointed. Showed teeth. Made sounds. Pointed.

Gnar raised his sloped brow to stare. Saw beauty not at all. Bright sky hurt. Eyes for ground, for prey.

Hnnh.

* * * *

Gnar lumbered. Boy walked. Looked.

Gnar squatted. Shit. Boy shit. Took large leaf. Wiped himself. Surprise for Gnar.

Next surprise. Boy pull skin from bashed pig carcass. Sharp rock cut strips. Strips tied sharp rock and stick. More teeth.

Walked more. Tool in hand.

Sun hiding. Air chill.

Loose rocks. Gnar foot slip.

Two rocks spark. Gnar jump. Lips stick out. What?

Boy teeth show. Pick up. Point finger.

Burnt tree. Char.

Tool chipped. Black bits in pile. Dry twigs.

Sit. Strike strike strike strike rocks. Sparks. Tinder. Small fire.

Gnnarrh! Fear.

Boy no fear. Push dirt around. Dirt hug fire.

Teeth show. See? Palms up for warm.

* * * *

Wary, Gnar settled. Learned new warmth. Learned fetch twigs, feed fire.

Fire good. Boy good.

Night. Boy sleep. Gnar sat. Idled with tool. Held it out. Arm extended. Swing swing. Idea.

Sleep-curl to protect boy. Arm circle air-place. Face in hair. Crotch to butt.

* * * *

Day.

Eat berries.

Boy show hatchet cut long stick.

Make fire. Burn end. Trim with hatchet. Sharp.

Toss. Toss. Toss.

Gnar toss. Idea.

Water. Boy point fish. Throw javelin.

Fish. Hatchet scrape scales. Open belly. Guts out.

Fish on stick over fire.

Smell gooood.

Gnar show teeth.

Boy point. Animals fuck. Turn. Show butt. Show teeth. Point butt.

Fish oil on Gnar. Lips open, tongue out. Idea.

Gnar stick boy butt. Animal fuck. Gnar fuck Boy.

Hnnh Hnnh Hnnh Hnh Hnh Hnh Unh Unh Gnarrr Gnarrrr

Flat Boy. Fuck.

Hnnh Hnnh Hnnh Hhhn Hnh Hnh Hnh Unh Unh Unnh Unngh Gnarrrrrrr

Flat Boy. Flat Gnar. Crazy teeth both.

Couple. Time long.

Fuck flat Boy. Time long. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck.

Boy push. Stand. Shake finger. Sounds. Wet eyes. Turn, arms folded.

Not good idea. Butt near Gnar. Gnar finger point in hole.

Boy stand. Listen to Gnar sounds.

With only one word – Boy – Gnar made other sounds. His. Efforts to speak. Not loud. Shy? Finger in Boy.

Boy moved on finger. Good.

Wiped eyes. Nodded.

* * * *

In the days which followed, Boy taught Gnar javelin throw, hatchet chop, and made a spear from a flaked rock-point tied by skin to a pole. Gnar began to form new ideas about this Boy – not subtle: Boy made tools and fire, cooked and fucked.

Boy best. Boy good. Not eat.

Gnar need Boy. Need treat nice.

Learned words – fire, fish, food – and thought the f sound fun to make. Laughed. Learned – tree, bush, grass, dirt, rock, lake, hill, sky, sun, moon, cloud, rain. Learned to make a point by pointing at himself (me) then at Boy (you) and saying the right word to get a result.

Boy returned the compliment with more words and patience, rewarding Gnar with his bottom.

Weeks became months. Boy wove plant fibers into rope and rope into a lasso. They caught a goat. Every day, warm milk for both.

Verbs – come, go, get, help, have, give, like, yes, not like, no, work, make, rest, fuck.

To say fuck by itself gave Gnar joy. But the day he used it in a sentence – I like fuck – was a triumph. Other sentences followed, none more favored by his thought.

Wherever they wandered, Boy made a lean-to, eventually with help from Gnar. Basket-making was too complicated for Gnar, but he learned to use Boy’s baskets to gather what he found – when he could – nuts, berries, fruits, dead birds.

Feathers became ornaments for both – in hair, in strings around necks, on spears. Wearing feathers, like wearing skins, were signs of their being above other animals.

Abandoned nests and lairs gave Boy the idea for staying in a good place. His lean-to know-how produced their first hut.

Clay, a revelation to Boy, was at first a recreation. He played with it, squished it in his hands, made a simple figure, knocked it in a campfire where it remained. Discovered as ashes were swept away with his new broom, the figure was hard like rock. Two-and-two came together. Boy made a bowl and cooked it in a big fire all day.

Soup and stew followed. They softened grains. Vegetables.

Better diet.

* * * *

Contact with others came when campfire smoke afar prompted pointing and curiosity.

Walked forests and plains, forded streams, climbed rocks. With goat.

Once spotted, excited cries whirled their way.

Boy and Gnar approached slowly, spear and new axe lowered. Goat nervous.

Suspicion. Fear. Fright. Yells of warning. Weapons raised and shaken.

Boy merely smiled and sat down. He beckoned Gnar to sit.

They were people. Like Boy.

Close, they spoke. Boy spoke. No words matched. Different.

Boy pointed to his friend, Gnar.

Gnar pointed back, Boy.

Biggest, fiercest man – Harx. Many feathers. Others – Doda, Lonk, Abou, Snag. Heavy clubs in hands.

Mimes later, march to village.

Village! Big eyes for Gnar and Boy. People every size. Soft gourds hanging ripe on some. Small people point, giggle, hide behind gourd-people.

Crowd. Big hut. Old, old person come. Spears pummel ground. Importance.

Gray eyes-like-storm focus hard. Words. Words. Interest in spear and axe. Words for each exchanged. Nods.

Gnar look Boy. Never in crowd. Anxiety. Want growl. Boy shook head – no. Smiled.

Smile returned echo-like.

Meal in evening. Every person like Boy. No like Gnar. Different. Ugly.

Best food to Boy. Plenty. Gray-eyes teach words. Near-ripe gourd people high sounds.

Gnar food from old dry-gourd people. No one try teach.

Boy notice. Share best food with Gnar.

People grumbles upset Boy. Boy stand like gazelle. Proud. Go to Gnar. Lift hand. Kiss brow.

Spoke new words to Grey-eye. Gray-eye calm people.

* * * *

The village people, thanks to leader Gray-eye, agreed to let the two guests sleep nearby. Night’s descent had only the illumination of embers glowing after the campfire. Neither guest was immediately sleepy. Gnar lay on his back facing the stars – trying to think. On his stomach facing the glow, Boy looked at the shadows beyond – and noticed two figures meeting.

A person like him and a gourd person – barely ripe – met with hands together. Kissed mouth on mouth. Boy’s mind alerted. He hardened when he saw the gourd person lie back and open its legs, knees up and the person like him lie between them and pump the way Gnar pumped him – only from behind.

So novel the sight, Boy nudged Gnar to look. Gnar rolled atop Boy’s back, entered, and fucked to match. His refrain – Hnnh Hnnh Hnnh Hnh Hnh Hnh Unh Unh Gnarrr Gnarrrr – roused Gray-eyes.

He saw but said nothing then.

* * * *

Morning. Men take Gnar to crops. Crops! Dig. Turn dirt. Seeds. Pour water. Mime no help.

Incipient agriculture lay beyond Gnar’s grasp.

Boy learned new words avidly, responded to marvels he was shown. Clay-coil pottery. Fire in a chimney of stones. Men and boys. Women and girls. Similarity of goat teats to breasts – a baby goat suckling, a baby person suckling its mother.

Weaving small strips, fibers!

Uninhibited laughter of play by children.

Gray-eye took pleasure in his eager pupil, frequently nodding approval, patting his shoulder as questions formed.

Then, Boy invented the slingshot and, hours later, the bow-and-arrow. Tried, the instant people saw the possibilities, both caught on – first, where Boy had created them as children’s toys, then as they were perceived as tools, even weapons.

To Gnar’s dismay over the next weeks, Boy’s creativity and enthusiasm for people placed him at the center of village life, Gray-eyes always by his side. Try as he might, Gnar could manage only menial tasks. Villagers tolerated him, though, even calling him by name and sometimes “man,” which he liked. He belonged to Boy, they knew.

At one campfire, Boy explained how Gnar saved his life and took care of him. His young-man’s voice breaking with emotion, he could recall nothing about his past before the time when, starving, he scented Gnar’s lightning-cooked meat and ate for the first time in days. Without Gnar, Boy would not be with everyone, not be in their community. The words had tumbled from his lips almost too fast.

Rapt, the audience hung on his voice, his gestures. Children were open-mouthed.

The word hero was the last they heard before Boy had to stop.

He-ro, a little boy repeated. He-ro. He-ro others joined. A young adult turned and said He-ro to Gnar.

Gray-eye said to Gnar, Hero!

* * * *

Gnar became the tribe’s own hero when, in the erratic path of a maddened, wildly charging, wounded wart hog, he bashed it with his club. And bashed it. And bashed it. Saved several children terrified only feet away.

They had a feast.

Boy and Gnar retired to their hut after. And fucked.

* * * *

“Results back yet from the Carbon-14 test of that mural you photographed? Remember, the one you managed to get in your camera before that awful sandstorm it blew away last Summer?”

“Yes, finally,” the senior archeologist answered. “Just in. Look for yourself.”

“What? Not possible. Fifty-thousand BCE’s not fucking possible. Or damn well shouldn’t be. For real? Let me see those pictures again.”

The site’s remote, rocky ledge hid artless images – stick-figure animals and people, plant life, tools and weapons, a fire with smoke, a monstrous man or shaman in some ritual involving a smaller, sexless figure face down beneath him.

A scene unique to prehistoric sites anywhere.

The junior paleontologist stared hard, up close, and clenched his jaw. One side of his mouth smiled, the other seemed a sneer.

For months, they had pondered the remains from his dig nearby – a large, somewhat misshaped skeleton on top of one of more slender frame. Both were found facing down.

His renowned colleague asked, “You know, I’m thinking my scene ties in with those bones you excavated.” After a considerable pause, the archeologist asked, “Well?”

“The DNA proves the big guy on top’s a fully-mature Neanderthal male and the bottom’s a younger Homo Erectus male.”

“Confirmation. We’re going to rewrite the early history of civilized society.”

“To hear you say it like that is a thrill. I'm feeling positively prehistoric”

“We’ll start by re-enacting their ritual - to bond - with ancient time itself.”

Postscript

Peer review revealed the opinion that readers would be defeated by my manner of writing - by my effort to reflect in the narrative the primitive experiences taking place - by gradually introducing sentence structure, by illustrating the invention of vocabulary by the superior species, by taking the development of an unheard-of relationship into early society and showing it take its place to the benefit of all. I made no change, believing that the story and its style would be understood. Your reactions will affirm or decry this oddity. To access my more traditionally imagined stories and my erotic novel, look here on GayDemon.