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    Masked Identities
    Masked Identities
    Masked Identities
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Masked Identities

    By Dale Thele

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Brooke thought she had read every book in Grandad's collection of fiction until she stumbles upon an unfamiliar title. Curious, she delves into the book, realizing her relationship with her boyfriend of four years parallels the story she is reading of Ezra and Christian. Can a Victorian tale of forbidden love between two men provide the answers to salvage her floundering relationship?

    This unusual story is a period tale wrapped inside of a contemporary storyline. The interior tale follows the relationship of two men in 1890 Victorian London, the outer story follows Brooke and Chase in upstate New York in the present day setting. The manuscript crosses genre specific lines; gay/hetero and period/contemporary. Definitely not a traditional run-of-the-mill read, but a journey into alternative fiction.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDale Thele
    Release dateFeb 25, 2019
    ISBN9780463294338
    Masked Identities
    Author

    Dale Thele

    Dale Thele is a bestselling American author whose life has been a lengthy series of compulsions strung together by atrocious acts of stupidity due to boredom. After raising heck in a sleepy oil town in north-central Oklahoma for 18 years, he then ventured to Oklahoma City University on a quest for higher education. He quickly learned “higher” education meant to “elevate” one's mind with the aid of either a reefer or a bong, and ample amounts of alcohol. Destiny dragged Dale to Austin, Texas, where he lives vicariously through the fictional characters he congers up, and the far-fetched adventures he writes.Dale began writing in 2008, influenced by authors like Timothy James Beck, Mark Kendrick, Michael Thomas Ford, and Bryan Healey. Dale pens works of fiction which often includes an LGBT character or two.

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      Book preview

      Masked Identities - Dale Thele

      MASKED IDENTITIES

      a novella of fictional proportions

      by Dale Thele

      Smashwords Edition

      ISBN 9780463294338

      Copyright © 2019 Dale Thele

      This novella is a fictionalized story. All incidents, dialogue, and characters except for events and locations are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life locations, businesses, and events appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      Revised on February 28, 2021 to include the short story entitled: Masked Identities–The Reveal, an added short story which completes the Ezra & Christian interior story from Masked Identities.

      Further revised on March 1, 2023 with a new cover design and minor text formatting changes.

      Cover Image by Sam Williams from Pixabay

      18 19 20 21 22 77 26 25 24 23

      Information about Dale Thele may be found on the author’s official website:

      www.dalethele.com

      DISCLAIMER

      This fictional work incorporates a period tale bundled within a contemporary story. The interior narrative takes place from April 11-12, 1890; including actual events, locations, and institutions from 1889 to 1890 Victorian London. The author attempted to portray historical details as accurately as possible. However, recorded data collected from archived documents contained inconsistencies and incompleteness. The exterior story takes place in present time.

      Included at the end of Masked Identities is a Glossary of Victorian Terms used in the interior narrative along with documented facts which provide brief historical backstory.

      "To thine own self be true, and it must follow,

      as the night the day,

      thou canst not then be false to any man."

      William Shakespeare

      She vaults into the car, then reels back to him. Go to hell, she spits like projectile vomit, slamming the driver’s side door shut.

      Brooke, talk to me, he begs, banging balled fists against the roof of the rain-slick automobile. Falling rain drips from his chin and wet clothes.

      Tires squeal as the engine races into reverse.

      He jumps out of the path of the flying vehicle.

      Dammit, Brooke, he yells. His fist striking solid against the trunk lid.

      Spraying rain in its wake, the Lexus fishtails through and out of the parking lot.

      In the rear-view mirror, the reflection of his silhouette grows smaller. Blinking back heated tears, a rage-storm brews inside her.

      * * *

      Haunted by the previous evening’s events, she cannot shake the feeling she had pushed him away, possibly, forever. He had always been sweet and kind to her, but at times he could infuriate her to no end, like last evening. She needs to get away, take time to cool off, to figure out what she truly wanted.

      White knuckles grasp the steering wheel as she navigates the ribbon of two-lane asphalt. The cerulean blue Lexus speeds past stately homes with sprawling manicured lawns while meandering through rich autumn foliage. Brooke, a freshman attending Bard College, put miles between her world of academia and her troubles. Or so she thinks as she approaches her destination.

      Tires screech as she makes an abrupt turn into a circular drive and parks in front of a Tudor-style mansion. This is not her home, but it is as comforting as if she belongs. Switching off the ignition, Brooke pokes through a designer purse to retrieve a cell phone. She checks for missed calls and text messages, there are none. This is the first morning she has not received a text from him since they began dating. Every morning, like clockwork, he texted her. Not till this moment does she realize how she has taken the texts for granted. She is missing those three words on her phone: I Love You. She wipes moist eyes then drops the phone into the bag.

      Climbing from the car, she steps into the crisp autumn air smelling of cedar and chrysanthemums. A dull overcast sky does not promise rain only subdued late morning light lacking the brilliance to cast shadows. A canopy of tree boughs of burnt-orange and amber hover overhead. Dried leaves crunch beneath her tennis shoes against the distressed brick path edged with crimson and white chrysanthemums.

      A sense of calm falls over her, knowing this place is the ideal escape after last night’s ordeal with her high school sweetheart, Chase. She punches the doorbell shifting from one foot to another a cold shudder slithers up her spine. How will she explain to her grandparents the unannounced visit without revealing the fight she had had with Chase?

      There is no answer at the door.

      Relieved, she retrieves the hidden key tucked in the mailbox, undoes the latch, then goes inside.

      The familiarity of her grandparent’s home wraps her like a warm, cozy blanket on a chilly night. Cinnamon and apple potpourri waft in the air. Thick silence heightens the mechanical tick...tock... of the grandfather clock in the entry. The interior has scarcely changed over the years. Rubber-soled shoes squeak against a gleaming parquet floor as she moves through the lavish Victorian decorated parlor. There is tranquility in the fond memories the house holds for her. She starts toward the great staircase which leads to her favorite room on the second floor–Grandad’s library.

      Climbing the curved stairs, she pauses on the landing to take in the outdoor view from the arched window. Catching sight of a timid deer in the flower garden, a weak smile slips across her tense face. After a few moments, she tears herself from the momentary escape from reality to ascend the remaining steps.

      Pushing open the heavy double walnut doors, she enters a pastoral, almost sacred like place. The room radiates warmth from rich cherry wood built-in cabinets, filled with nothing but wondrous books. The familiar smell of Grandad’s black cherry pipe tobacco lingers in the air. This is his private space, his escape from the world, the only room where Gran allows him to smoke. She drops handbag and keys on Grandad’s desk, then ambles alongside rows upon rows of shelved books. Gentle fingertips graze along the spines of antique books of familiar titles. Images course through her memory of each intriguing adventure she had read.

      Since a small child when Grandad first held her in his lap and read Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, she became hooked on stories. Over the years, Grandad’s library became a refuge from the world, a place she felt safe and secure. She would read for hours in silence from her favorite chair while Grandad read from behind his desk. Even though few words were exchanged between them, they shared a kinship for written words.

      Her slender fingers skim

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