The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean by David Almond Read Free Book Online Page B

wispers. He sits by me & opens me up with sissors. He cuts threw my fethers & my bones & keeps on cutting til hes rite at the hart of me. He dips his pen in the hart of Billy Dean & rites the story of Billy Dean with the blud of Billy Dean.
    I see the words and the pitchas taykin shayp and they are so byutiful.
    I try to rede it & Dad smyls.
    The ritin is aynshent & stranj he says. Even I that rote it all carnt rede & understand it all.
    He wotches me.
    What abowt you? he says.
    What abowt me?
    Do you understand it Billy?
    No Dad I wisper.
    So you are like your Daddy.
    Thats good I say.
    It is he says. And the ritin & the pitchas is a masterpees. A masterpees abowt the boy naymd Billy Dean. Look ther is yor name Billy Dean. And there is the name of Mam & the name of Dad.
    And I look & I can rede the few littl words he names & I shiver like a fetherd thing with joy.

Next thing I no its Mam that cums to me. The sky abuv is brite. Shes gently shakin me awayk. Her voys is in my ere.
    Yor sleepin the sleep of the dead Billy Dean. Wer you bene in that littl hed of yors.
    Nower I say. Just in my bed Mam.
    She laffs. Stil I can fele my Dads hand in me continuin from the dreme.
    Is Daddy cumin soon? I ask.
    She looks away. She has a glas of oranj joos that she ofers to me. I take it & take a sip.
    Who nos Billy? You no how yor dad is. Do you ask this becos yor missin him so much?
    Aye Mam.
    She sits rite beside me on the bed. She siys.
    Whats up Mam? I say.
    You have to no, she ansers, that ther mite cum a time wen Dad wil return no mor.
    I laff.
    That wil never happen I say.
    And how can you no that son? And you hav seen how the anger & the hatred cum upon him. Those are the things that mite drive him away.
    But those things pass. My dad Wilfred wil not stop. He loves us much too much for that.
    She closes her eyes.
    You dont no yor Dad like I do Billy Dean.
    Yes I do.
    No you dont Billy. And yor turning to a big boy. Its time you start to understand these things.
    I dont no what to say. I close my eyes. I see him in the dreme agen. I feel his pen poyntin rite down into the hart of me. I wisper.
    If he dos stop I wil go to find him & bring him back.
    Will you, Billy? And how wil you no wer to go & how wil you no wer to look for him?
    And I look arownd me at the warls & the leters & marks & pitchers on the warls & the windo to the sky & at the mows holes and the door that I must never go throu & I think of the bird & the mise & the dreme & my hed is tremblin with the wunderin & the wurry of it.
    I dont no I say at last. But I wil fynd a way. & if he dusnt return wen I ask him to then
    Then what Billy Dean?
    I think agen of the dead bird & of the mows with the trap at its throte.
    Then Ill hav to kil him Mam.
    She claps her hand acros her mowth.
    Dont say such things! she says.
    But it mayks her grin as wel. She looks at me from the corna of her eye.
    And wot do you suppows you no abowt killin littl Billy Dean? Apart from the killin of littl mise in littl traps.
    I no lots I say. I no abowt Cane & Able & abowt how God killd millyons & millions at Sodim & Gomorra & with a grate big fludd.
    Them old aynshent tails she says.
    Aye Mam them old tails.
    I make a fist & rase it hiy abuv my hed.
    Ill do the same as God I say. Ill tel him to be good & if he dosnt then Ill slay him. Just like that!
    I thump my fist down onto the bed just like I stab this pensil down onto the payj rite now.
    Just like that? she says. You cud kil the man you love just like that? I dont think so Billy Dean.
    She looks away. I sit up and cuddl her.
    But what a hero! she says. What a brayv littl hero you are!
    And then she crys. She says what a silly stupid bitch shes bene. She says who is she to hav such an aynjel for a son. And Wilfred? Who is he? What kind of monsta is he? And who cud no what he deservs?
    I wotch her cry until shes carm.
    It wil not be long she wispers. It wil be like with the mise.
    What wil be like with the mise?
    Sumthin that wil be hard but