The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean (9 page)

I rote his name.

WILFRED.

My hand was shudderin & the words wernt byutiful but they wer true.

O Billy! he said.

Its writ on skin I said. Like back in aynshent days.

I rote agen.

VERONICA.

I kept on shudderin & the fether was sharp & I pressd too hard & Dad winsd & a littl of his blud came owt & mingld with my own.

Im sorry Dad I said.

I wotchd him as he slowly rubbd the two bluds together with his fingertip until they dryd.

I told him agen I was sorry I dint mene it but he said it was nothin nothin.

I tuk a depe breth & dared myself.

I mayd a thing for you I said.

A thing?

Yes a thing.

I nelt down & reechd beneath the bed agen. Careflly lifted owt the book of skin. Shiverd shook & trembld as I held it owt to him.

This thing I telt him.

It lookd so tiny in his hands like a littl styupid bit of nothin. It showd how tiny the mise had bene. The letters showd how tiny the burd had bene. The meaninlessness showd how tiny Billy Deans brane had bene.

He movd the book & turnd it so the shaft of dust & lite fel down upon its payjes so the letters & the pitchas wer iluminayted.

Look I telt him. Thers our names rit down in ink & blud.

He lookd at me as if I was sum grate mistry to him a mistry as big as the stars or the goodness at the hart of things.

I wanted to mayk a masterpees I said. It has the beest & the burd & the human being in it & it has words & storys & as I rote it I showd payshens & dedicayshon & I had my mind on hiyer things.

Its byutiful Billy.

I made it for you Dad.

O I cudnt take it from you Billy.

You must. You must cary it with you.

A grone lyk the grone of a thing in aginy caym owt from him & corsed the dust arownd his mowth to rush swirl storm & scatter lyk a millyon shootin stars a million littl frantic burds.

I pressd the pajes onto his hands.

Plees. I said. Plees tayk it Dad.

He groned agen. He lookd at the sky at the room at my eyes at the book lyk he dint no wer he was dint no wat he was dint no nothin nothin at arl.

Then he turnd his fays from me & clutchd the book.

Forget me Billy he said.

I reechd owt to him but cud not reech him.

Murder me in yor hart he said.

I held his blak jaket but he tuggd away.

Goodby he wisperd.

Then he went threw the dor I must never go threw. He left it wyd open. I seen the depe depe darknes that lay behynd. I turnd my eyes away as his last word eckoed depe inside me.

Goodby. Goodby. Goodby.

I stood in the shaft of dust & lite. I felt the scarf that hung loosely arownd my throte. I smelt the sents of him in it. Voyses started mutterin in the walls. I went to the warl & pressd so hard & tryd to lissen. Then sylens.

Then much time.

Then Mam caym in. She shut the dore & crossd the room & put her arm arownd me.

Dads gon she said.

Soon after that things started to stink. Mam was bringin in my brekfast 1 morning & she stoppd & sniffd the air.

What on erths that smel? she said

What smel I said tho I new what she was tarkin of.

That funny smel. Its swete & yuk.

She sniffd me & she sniffd the bed. She got down on her hands & nees & started crawlin sniffin rownd the room fays close to the carpet close to the flore.

Mebbe its the mise agen she said.

Mebbe it is.

She lay down by the walls & sniffd in the mowsholes.

No wors than normal she said.

She kept on sniffin searchin findin nothin.

Ill get some disinfectant & some scrubbin stuff she said.

OK Mam. If I fynd enythin Ill let you no.

Then she went to do harestyles & I got under the bed & lifted up the secret florebord.

It was the spuggy that was making the stink of cors.

Id got rid of all the bits of the dead mise exept the little foot of the first. But I just cudnt chuck the burd away. It was so preshus. But no mater how preshus it wos it stil had the ability to rot.

I lifted it owt. Wot a bluddy pong. I workd fast. I wos hedin for the toilet but stil I cudnt do it. I got the sissors & cut the wings off. I hoyd the body into the toilet bowl & flushd it down. I had to flush agen to get all the little fethers gon. I spred the wings owt on the table and even tho the wings had bene pluckd so much and even tho the stink was porin owt of them they wer completly bluddy lovely.

All I wanted I think wos 1 last good look. I spred the wings wyd & siyed at ther loveliness. I thankd the bird for comin to me from the sky.

Then the imaj enterd my brane & I new what I must do.

I fownd 1 of the old mows traps that Mam had left in a draw. I bated it by scatering crums from my brekfast acros it. I pulld bak the spring. I lade the trap before 1 of the holes in the wall. I stood up & steppd bak & wayted. The shaft of lite shone down & evrything was very stil & very sylent.

It did not take long.

A singl mows appeard slipping owt of the hole. It was a mows like eny uther mows with greyish fur & a skinny tale & tiny fete & delicat wiskers & poynty eres. It sniffd the air. It lookd this way that way & up towards the sky. It moovd towards the trap & sniffd agen. It pawsed for meny seconds as if it was in thort. Then steppd onto the trap & put its hed towards the crums & clack! The hole trap jumpd with the sudden violens of it & the mows jerkd & twitchd a final tym & then was still.

I knelt down.

I wisperd thanks to this mows for giving itself to me & to the burd.

I releesd it carefly.

I held it in my hand this dead & stil warm & tender lovely beest.

I carryd it to the tabl & lade it on a plate.

I think I sumhow new this was to be my finil proper act in ther.

I got the sissors & I cut little holes in the sholders of the mows. I got the wings of the burd & stuck them into those holes. I mayd a thing lyk an aynjel lyk a hors with wings lyk an aynshent beest lyk a beest thatd never bene sene in this world at arl.

It wos the second thing Id mayd with mows & burd and yes it wos floppy & stranj & it wud never never fly but I held it up & supported the wings with my thums & the blud of the mows trickld down my fingas & the stink of the wings mixd with my breth but I new I had mayd sumthin new & speshul & that lyk my masterpees wud never diy in my memry.

Aye, I no. Lookin bak I no I was in a straynj straynj stayt. The yers of bein in the room the aloneness the loss of dad the mise the burd & arl the weardness of what Id bene up to in the nites. Mebbe I was more than a littl mad a littl crayzy. Of cors I wos. But mebbe the crayzines brout forth sum powa & corsd a miracl to occur that nite. Or mebbe not. Who nos? Mebbe it was all madness all an ilushon mebbe it wos sumthin to do with Mam & mebbe Ill find a way to get her to tel me 1 day.

Enyway that nite I put that stinkin mowsburd on the table unda the windo to the sky. I telt it it cud resurrect itself & fly away into the stars & joyn the other beasts & gods & galixys up ther.

And I saw it happen. I saw the mowsburdaynjel rise up from the taybl. I saw it rise throu the little room then throu the windo & keep on risin risin til it was owt of site far far off millyons & millyons of myls away & all that cud be sene of it throu the frame of the windo was a littl arraynjment of stars shinin in the lovely perfect shayp of it.

Next thing I no is its morning & the mowsburds gon from the taybl just lyk I dremed it did. Mam cums in. She sits on the bed. Shes got a buckit of disinfectint & scrubbin brushes in her hands & rubba gluvs on.

She sits on the bed.

We carnt go on like this can we Billy she says.

I dont no Mam.

We cant. You must prepare yourself.

For what Mam?

For goin throu the dore son. Its time.

I shudder & trembl & she raps me in her arms.

Yor dad wont cum bak no mor Billy. I no it. We ar on our own now.

Are we Mam?

Aye. But well hav frends to help. Mr McCaufrey. Missus Malone. They are prepard. And dont wurry becos shes a good woman and hes a good man.

She grinnd & bit her lip.

But Mr McCaufrey she said.

Mr McCaufrey what?

He dusnt beleev in you Billy.

Dusnt beleev?

No. No mater what Missus Malone & I tel him he dusnt beleev its possibl that thers a boy like you in a plase like this.

I tryd to imajin what a Mr McCaufrey wud be like. No way of doin this of cors. Id only seen my dad my mam myself & birds & mise & the weard figurs that sumtyms wanderd throu the shados & throu my dreams.

Hell hav to beleev when he sees me & tuches me Mam I said.

Thats true.

And when I see him & tuch him then Ill beleev in him.

She laffd.

Thats true as well she said.

She held me tite.

You must prepare yorself & you must be brave she wisperd. Therll be no comin bak. Wons you leev this room we will lok it up. A clene brake. No goin back. You understand Billy?

I understood nothing. I did not no how to prepare myself nor how to be brave.

I tryd. The mowsbird helpd me. I told myself that if a thing like that cud leev the room then a thing like Billy Dean surely cud as well.

My mam stayd a cupl of hours. She scrubbd the walls & the bath & the toilet & she hooverd the flore. Soon the plays smelt of sope and disinfectint & I new the stink of rottd burd wud soon be gon. The only thing she fownd was a singl grey fether on the flore by the toylet. She lifted it up & lookd at it & lookd at me.

How did this get here she said.

Dont no Mam.

She smyld.

No. Of cors you dont.

She held it up & blew it soft & up it went into the air.

We wotched it flowtin. I rappd the scarf with the blak frinjes on it arownd me. I smelt the aynshent sents in it. She went away. I rote on the walls for a final time.

I rote a word that ment goodby.

Goodby.

“Get him up & get the hood on him. Do it fast befor he starts to think.”

Its a womans voys the first thing I hear that mornin as I wake. I kepe my eyes tite shut. I pul a blankit over me. Then the blankits yankd away & massiv hands ar on my sholders & hot breths in my fase & thers a smell of blud & the voys of a man is groanin in amayzment.

“Its true. O my goodness Veronica its reely true.”

Mams tender tuch on my cheek & then her kiss & then her wisper.

“Yes its true. I told you of my lovely son & here he is. Wake up Billy. Its time to go.”

“Sho a leg” says the man. He trys to lift me. I go rijid & stiff & he hesitayts.

“Hells teeth” he says. “Hells bluddy teeth.”

I open my eyes & hes rite abuv me. Massiv shiny fays and massiv shiny hed and big brown eyes. He blinks he steps bak from me he grimases he liks his lips with his brite red tung.

“McCaufreys the name” he says.

He reeches down & tuches me just wer my mam tuchd on the cheek.

“Im the butcha” he wispers. “Im yor pal. Trust me.”

I look past him and thers a littl blakhared witefaysd woman close behynd him. And thers my mam with her eys fixd on me and her hands spred across her fase. And I see that the dore I must never go throu stands wyd open.