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Coming Home by J R Spencer

Updated on September 21, 2017

Coming Home. A debut novel.

I have been working on my first novel - Coming Home - for some time and am pleased to say that it is now available for sale on Amazon as both a print book and an eBook.

I have always had a love of history and have been fascinated by the great depression America suffered through in the 1930's. When I decided to start work on my first novel I really didn't consider any other time or place for my characters to inhabit.

Coming Home - a brief description.

In depression torn America two very different men, each running from their own personal demons, are thrown together on an epic cross country journey. From squatters’ camp to five star hotel, from brothels to speakeasies follow Jack and Daniel as they struggle to accept their own sexuality and strong need for each other.

Buy Coming Home from Amazon

Coming Home - an excerpt.


Daniel heard the train coming long before he could actually see it, the shrill sound of its whistle cutting through the cold, still air like a knife. He stayed hidden in the bushes, his pathetically small bundle containing all his worldly possessions clutched tightly to his chest. It was a risk riding the box cars but he knew that if he stayed out here in the open he would most likely freeze to death. A solid layer of hoar frost already covered the hard ground and the dark sky was heavy with the promise of snow. He pulled the ribbed collar of his jacket up and raised his shoulders so that it covered his exposed ears a little more.

For the hundredth time that night, he wished that he still had his cap, but at the time half a loaf of bread had seemed like a very good trade. He had mourned its loss the first night as the temperature plummeted and the bread had proved to be almost too sour to eat. His head ached, his cheeks throbbed, he had lost all feeling in his toes and he was beyond exhausted but he knew that should he fall asleep in all likelihood he would never wake up. Not so long ago he might have welcomed that sweet oblivion with open arms but in the past few days his stubborn streak had kicked in. The anger burning in his belly, from the certain knowledge that should he die here not a living soul would mourn his passing, helped his resolve too. Somehow he would survive.

He had been waiting here quietly for the past four hours, having chosen this spot because the sparse winter-bare bushes provided some meagre protection from the biting cold - also the track curved sharply and any passing trains would have to slow down to make the bend. He should be able to jump on board safely. He stood, shaking the numbness from his limbs, getting the circulation going in his heavy legs.

As the train approached Daniel decided to try for one of the front box cars, theorising that most people would miss the first few; he had observed men jumping onto the trains before and most seemed to wait until around the middle, perhaps hoping that they were out of sight of the driver and his mate. He would sooner risk discovery than find himself sharing, from what little he had seen it was clear that you didn’t exactly meet the best that humanity had to offer when you stole a ride.

As soon as the engine passed his hiding spot he burst from the bushes and ran as fast as he could towards the third car, his heart pounded in his chest forcing blood through his body with such force that the sound almost drowned out the noise of the monstrous machine bearing down on him. He reached out one handed and grabbed the handle, pulling hard; the well-greased door slid open easily. Daniel threw his bundle into the darkness within and then, his feet scrabbling on the loose gravel, hauled himself on board. With luck it would be empty.

Except Daniel was never lucky. The warmer air inside the car hit him at the same time as the first blow. He staggered from the force of it; shock and surprise slowed him down. Daniel sluggishly raised his fists too late to block the second and third blows. He fell to the floor, dust and straw billowing around him and filling his nostrils and mouth as he landed face down on the rough boards. He tried to rise but a heavy weight settled across his lower back and harsh hands pushed down mercilessly on his shoulders.

“Well, well, well, lookie here, it must be Christmas.” Warm breath, ripe with the smell of stale tobacco blew over Daniel’s face, causing him to gag and splutter.

“Let me go. Please Mister, let me go,” Daniel pleaded, a slur in his speech from the pain coursing through his skull.

“Why the hell should I do that?” The man laughed harshly. “Can’t remember the last time I got this lucky. You and me are going to have a fine old time. Yes sir, a fine old time.”

“I don’t have any money,” Daniel replied on a sob, vainly hoping that robbery was what this was all about, the irony of the situation pushed the shock away for a moment and he almost wished he had stayed on the farm, at least there he would have been lying on a full belly.

“That’s okay kid; I’m sitting on your fortune.” The man lay down along Daniel’s back, hard and heavy, rubbing his obscenely obvious erection on the young man’s spine.

Daniel pushed up with all his strength, gaining only a sharp cuff around the ear for his trouble.

“Leave the kid alone,” a new voice echoed around them. Daniel turned his head towards the direction of the sound but couldn’t see anyone.

“What’s it to you? You want a piece of him? Looks like there’ll be plenty to go around.” The man leered across the box car, peering into the darkness towards the bales of hay stacked in the corner where the disembodied voice had originated. He had thought he was alone, the other man must have been sleeping, hidden at the back, deep in shadow.

He reached back and grabbed the boy's denim clad ass, viciously probing through the worn material. Underneath him, Daniel squirmed, trying desperately to get away from his attacker, but the older man was too strong and days without food had left Daniel weak. His head was still spinning from the blows he had received as he had climbed on board the train. He felt sick. Bile rose in the back of his throat, thick and bitter, choking him.

“I said, leave the kid alone.” The low even voice dripped menace but Daniel’s attacker was too focused on his dick and the kid’s sweet ass to recognise the danger he was in. The tone registered with Daniel, however, and for the first time, hope flared in him - maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this alive. He would wait for the two men to start fighting over him and then jump off the train; he didn’t care how fast it was going - broken bones were better than dead. He inched his way toward the still open door, clawing at the boards and dragging the man with him.

“Keep still, you little bastard, or I’ll slit your throat and screw your corpse,” the man snarled at him, leaning forward to run a rusty old penknife slowly down the side of Daniel’s face - digging the blade in just enough to draw blood. Daniel hissed in pain but lay still, hardly daring to breathe, he could feel the edges of his control becoming fuzzy and knew he was on the verge of passing out. The man kept the knife pressed against Daniel’s throat, reaching down with his other hand, fumbling to undo his pants. Suddenly he was yanked backwards, the knife clattering to the floor beside Daniel’s head. In a blur of movement, the man was pulled across the box car and thrown out the still open door, his panicked scream was quickly swallowed by the night.

Daniel unsuccessfully tried to rise, his legs simply incapable of taking his weight; he collapsed in a heap amongst the strewn hay. He lifted his head, trying to see the man who had saved him, perhaps - Daniel thought, only because he didn’t want to share. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him, and as he tried once more to get to his feet, he finally lost his battle with unconsciousness.

Slave to Desire.

My second novel.

My second novel - Slave To Desire - is now available from Amazon.

Slave To Desire - a brief description.

In a future where mankind is still recovering from a devastating flu pandemic, two men find themselves thrown together. Rade - a hardened career military man and Tralen - a humble slave.


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  • GALAXY 59 profile image

    GALAXY 59 5 years ago from United Kingdom

    Thanks for commenting Pennypines. History is stuffed full of wonderful stories just waiting to be told and as you say truth is better than fiction.

  • Pennypines profile image

    Lucille Apcar 5 years ago from Mariposa, California, U.S.A.

    As the saying goes, Truth is better than Fiction. And if the truth can be personalized to read like fiction even better. Good work.