by David Almond
Never mynd said Mam. Just lissen to thoas birds.
We lissend agen & I lissend to how the birds wer such a tiny & powerful thing in the middl of the massiv endlessness of all ther is.
I herd them singin owtsyd in the world & insyd depe insyd myself.
Yes said Mam. Yes mebbe you will see Mr McCaufrey. Hes a good strong kind man Billy. He wil help us. Kiss me now.
She put her fase befor me & I kissd her lips.
I got to go she said. Youl be alrite?
Of cors Ill be alrite. Like always, Mam.
Aye like always Billy.
And off she went. And she left the windo hangin down. And didnt come bak. So the windo went on hangin as the afternoon wore on & soon darknes wasnt far away.
She never did this never left the window hangin down until the nite. Mebbe she forgot mebbe it wos delibrit. Or mebbe she had a kynd of premonishun. Owtside the air began to change & stilness soon gave way to breez & wind & ajitayshun. I saw clowds passin fast acros the sky & hurd the rushin of the air across the windo. For the first tym in my life I felt rane farl down on me. I turnd my fase to it. I felt the sharp swete isy ping of drops of warter on my skin. I lickd it wer it fel upon my lips and cheeks. It fel a bit faster a bit harder I saw it splashin down onto the carpet & the sofa & I saw the wetness of it spredin. Then ther came a fast flutterin in the air. I look up and to my astonishment thers a spuggy flyin in the room. Its so frantic its so terrifyd. It must of cum throu the windo mebbe to escayp the littl storm & dusnt no how to fynd its way bak owt agen. Flys bak & forth throu the room bangin into walls. Bangs into the pitcher of the iland like it thinks it can go into it. Bangs into the dore like it thinks it can go rite throu it.
Up I jump & hold my hands owt to it.
Dont be friytend little spuggy I say.
Carm down I say.
Let me gide you bak towards the sky I say.
But nothin helps. Bak and forwad goes the frantic bird flutterin & bangin & skweekin & terrifyd of bein wer its fownd itself terrifyd of Billy Dean with no idea wer the windo is no idea that the windo is the only plays of possibl escayp.
Bang crash flutter wallop skweek skweek skweek!
O poor littl desprit bird I see you now.
Carm down I want to call agen. Carm down and let me gide you to the sky.
Soon it starts fallin to the flor then flutterin up agen then fallin agen then tryin to flutter agen.
It falls to the flore a finil time. All its flyin finishd. It has abandond itself to its fayt.
It crepes under the sofa.
And as it crepes the rane stops fallin & the air owtsyd grows stil agen & the sky gose pinky bluw.
I crowch down ther agenst the flore.
Littl bird I softly call.
I peep into the darknes & ther it is so frayl & timid bundld up in its wings.
Poor spuggy I wisper. Billy Dean wont harm you.
I get the playt that the sandwich was on. I dip my finger in the crums of bred & stretch my hand into the dark beneeth the sofa.
Woud you like sum bred?
It dusnt respond.
I wotch. The darknes is deepenin now darknes with a shaft of pink in it comin from the sky. Soon the bird is just a shado just a ball of black in ther. I reech rite under the sofa & fele the softnes of the burd & take it into my hand & draw it owt.
Such a little lite thing its almost like its hardly ther at arl. It dose not breeth. No beatin hart. I tuch its beek its little claws its tenda fethers. Its wings are shut its hed rests on my parm.
Thank you for yor sacrifiys I wisper.
I dont wate.
I switch on the lite. I inspect the feathers. I spred the wings & tayl. The fethers on the wings & tayl are bigest & strongest wich is obvyos I supose. I try to pul a wing fether owt but its stuk ded tite. Obvyos agen I supose. I get the sissors & try to lever the point of the fether owt of the flesh & here it cums at last with just a drop of blud at its point. I scrayp the blud away. I hold the fether in my fingas lyk my Daddy holds a pen. I move it back and forth across the paypa to get the nack & fele of it.
I get sum felt tips open them up and sqeez the ink owt of them onto the samwich playt. I dip the point of the fether in & I start ritin on the payper. I try to moov slo & careful more slo & careful than Ive ever yet movd wen Iv rit. I tel myself it is the tym to gro in intellijens and skil. I mayk little curvs & little jagged marks that look lyk words & letters. I no they are not true words & leters becos I do not yet no how to make such things. But I tel myself that even things that are meaningless can stil be things of byuty. I try to copy the shayps of the words in the mastapees which are byutiful but sumtyms meaninless even to my Dad. I work for hours til the marks start lookin a littl bit rite. But the inks no good just runny and payl. So I get the sissors and open up the bird and cut and jently cut until I get to the hart wer the bluds still wet. I mix the blud with the ink & I rite agen. Its beter. I try cutting the point of the fether into different shayps. I tug out another fether wen that one starts crakin up. I kepe on ritin. Soon the blud of the bird drys up. So I cut my arm just insyd the elbo with the point of the sissors & I sqeez the cut & let the blud drip down into the ink & I rite with that.
I am so exited. A hole nite passes.
I no nothing but the pashon of the ritin.
Then mornins on its way agen.
I look at my paje. The shayps of the marks are gettin beter the lyns of shayps are getting strayter.
I put the bird & the fether & the pajes unda the bed. I wosh the playt & the sissors & nife.
I get into bed as the lite in the sky is back agen.
I dreme that ther is the tiny red hart of a bird in me. I dreme that ther are fethers and wings on me. I dreme of flyin down into the room throu the open windo & not fyndin my way owt agen. I dreme of Dad liftin me up. Poor little bird he 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 that wil be for the best.
Then she gose. And I get my stuff owt from under the bed agen & I open the wound agen cos its heeld & the blud flos & I mix it with the ink & I get on with my ritin agen & becos of the dreme I no now how to shayp the words Billy & Dean & Mam & Dad & words like lad & mad & bad & nib & dam & dead but not the words that mite go in between them to give them proper sense.
I rote on the skin in the end of corse. After days of practising I lade the first skin on the table. I dippd the poynt of the fether in the ink & blud. I rote lyns of tiny meaningless byutiful shayps mixd in with the handful of the words I new. The shayps in my mynd told the story of Billy Dean who grew in secret at the hart of things.
I drew pitchers of the boy that the story was abowt. I drew pitchers of the boy that rote the tayl. I drew him in a sqare room with a fether in his hand & a halo rownd his hed & with burds flyin rownd the halo rownd his hed.
In this way I mayd my masterpees. I rote 9 pajes of words & pitchers. I cut a hole in eech corner with the point of the sissors & joined the payjes together with string.
I rote it with the fether of a bird on the skin of a beest just lyk in aynshent tyms & it wos very byutiful.
Mebbe maykin the masterpees sumhow got me redy for the end for all the chaynjes that wer abowt to cum so qwik.
I rememba the very last time Dad cum to us. It was in the daytime which was so unusual for him. I rememba how lovin he seemd at first how he felt the mussels in my arms and legs & telt me I was turning into a fyn strong lad.
Yor turnin into a man Billy Dean he said.
He held me up agenst him. I remember how I gaspd to sudenly no how much I had grown.
Look at you! he said. Youl soon be nerly as big as yor dad.
I laffd & jumpd up so my hed was nerly levil with his.
He laffd bak then turnd away. He stard up to the windo to the sky with his hands held behind his bak and he was silent for a long tym. Ther was a shaft of lite farlin on him ther was a million bits of dust dansin spinnin glitterin in that shaft of lite. He lit a blak sigaret & the smoak swirld rownd him with the dust. I cud fele the torment that was in him even befor he said to me in a tremblin voys.
Wil you forgiv me Billy?
I said I did not reely no wot forgivin was but if he wanted me to then yes I wud.
He laffd at that but it didnt seem much lyk a laff.
O Billy! he said.
He cum owt of the dust owt of the smoak owt of the lite.
Of cors you wont he said. Wy shud you do enythin but hate?
He siyed & kissd me on the cheke & huggd me. He started warkin to the dore but then turnd bak and cum so close to me.
Is ther a god Billy he said.
I didnt no what to say.
Is ther he said. Is ther a god is ther a devil is ther goodness is ther bad is ther Hevin is ther Hell? Is ther enythin but this just this.
I tryd to speke but had no words to anser with.
He put his hands round my hed & held it so my eyes wer on him just him.
Anser me he said.
I dont no Dad.
But I thort you wud. I thort in this littl plays in yor innosens & goodnes you wud cum to see things & no things that nobody els cud no.
His fingas wer getting tite gettin paynful.
Is that all you hav to say? he said.
I dont no Dad.
You dont no. You dont bluddy no?
No.
He drew me closer.
Tel me what you see he said.
You Dad I said. You.
You he said. Me. Whats bluddy me?
He yankd me even harder towards him. He bent down and pulld me up so I teeterd on my toes & my eyes were nerly rite befor his own. He pressd his nose down agenst my own. I saw the scar abuv his eye so cloas. I felt the fury seethin in him.
Look into my eyes boy. Look depe.
I stared.
Look depe I said, he said. Bluddy deeper bluddy Billy Dean. Whats in ther?
In wer?
In here in me in father Wilfred. Look and say what you see.
I stard into the blak pupil at the senter of his eyes.
I dont no Dad!
Stop sayin that!
But I dont no. How cud I no?
O bluddy jesus after all this is that arl ther is to say. Tel me!
Just darknes Dad. Just the little black hole & the darknes behind it & . . .
He shovd me back. Stil he grippd my hed. He swivelld it so I lookd arl arownd him.
And whats arownd me whats beyond me whats abuv me whats belo?
Just the ordnary things Dad. Just the air & the flore & the roof & the walls & the fallin dust & the lite & then the stars.
Nothin els? Nothin els in the spayses?
No I wisperd.
No he said. Of cors thers not. Forgiv me Billy.
He siyed.
And forgiv me this.
He put his hand up to the scarf that was around his nek. He tuggd it & it slithered down into his hands. He held it between his two hands then qwikly rappd it rownd my throte. He pulld the scarf & pulld me closer to him. I smelt the smel of him & the insens & the wyn & the blak cigarettes & the sent of Dadnes in him. I saw the brite brite brite blueness of his eyes arownd the blak.
I cud do it he said. You no that Billy dont you?
Do what Dad? I wisperd bak.
He laffd.
It mite be the best thing I cud ever do for you he said. I cud do it to you then do it to her then do it to me & so it wud be dun & finishd with at last.
I dint want to speke nor move nor do anything that mite mayk him go away. I just wanted him to stay like I always wanted him to stay.
; It wud send you strate to Hevan he said. And it wud mayk sure of my plase in Hell.
I kept on lookin bak into his blue blue eyes with the blak hole at the center. He pulld the scarf & it tiytend rownd my throte. He wotchd me. He pulld a littl tiyter. I cud fele that if he went on titenin the power of breth wud leav me.
Dont Daddy I gaspd. Plees dont.
Why not Billy?
He pulld it tiyter & he wotchd me as I choakd for breth as I shudderd as I sqirmd as I tryd to pul away the scarf with my own frale hands.
Then he releesd me. He cort his breth shook his hed took his hands away & lookd at them and tears started runnin from his eyes.
I loosend the scarf & then reechd owt to him put my arms arownd him.
Its alrite Dad I telt him.
How can it be? he wisperd.
He cort his breth agen & then he nelt befor me. He tilted his hed bak bared his throte.
It shud be you that dose it to me Billy he said. Do it now. Get a nife and kil me now.
I reechd owt tuchd his throte. Ther was stubbl on it but the skin was wite and soft and smooth. I cud fele his blud beatin his breth flowin his mussels tremblin. I felt the grissel & the bone & I imajind goin depe insyd goin depe down towards the hart of him.
He dint move as my fingers rested on him moved across him and felt the livin that was goin on in him.
It wud be no crime he said. No sin. Ther wud be nothing to forgiv & nobody enyway to do the forgivin.
I turnd from him. I reechd beneath the bed and got my stuff owt. I got the fether of the bird.
He wotchd and didnt move.
What you doin Billy he said.
Kepe stil Dad. Let me do it.
I rolld my sleev up opend the wound & dippd the point of the fether in. He lookd in a kind of horra. I rote my naym in blud across his throte.
I bene practising I said.
I cant see Billy.
Hold yor hand owt.
He held his hand owt.
I rote my name agen on the skin of the bak of his hand.
BILLY.
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.
