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

crunch.
    I see the sky abuv them reddenin lyk fyr & darkenin lyk death. I hear the screemin guls the rattl of the breez. A dog barks sumwer nereby & sumwer faroff thers a deep deep groanin. The breth is weezin in my throte & wisslin throu my teeth. & thers crunch crunch rattl crunch crunch crunch rattl rattl crunch.
    The lites all red & golden. The woman & the boy ar silowets in it. They wark on the shattad payvments the potholwed rodes throu weeds & shrubs past crumblin howses emty howses empty shops ruwind restronts empty spaces. Thers driftin smoak arownd them thers scattad litta rampant weeds. Thers a body or 2 that wanders by lyk lost & lonely soles. The boy starts tiring qwik. The woman holds him tite. She wispas to him to slo down to tayk care to be brayv to turn his fays this way that way to hyd to look away. She poynts throu Blinkbonnys gaps to the glitterin riva at the far off edj. Shows him the darkenin spayses beyond Blinkbonny. Tels him that these ar feelds & moors and mowntans. Poynts to the far off lites of the sity that exists downhill. Tels him of the meny peple that inhabit that plase.
    She tels him to look further beyond the city. Can he see the dead flat dark horizon thats darka than the darkening sky abuv? He looks. He stares. He reels. How can it be that the worlds so big?
    She tells him that the dead flat dark thing is the sea. She asks him can he see the lite that turns ther the lite that gos & then cums bak & gos & then cums back?
    He says he can but really hes not sertan that he can.
    “That lite wen it turns shines on the iland,” she says.
    “The holy iland?”
    “Yes.”
    “The won wer the masterpees was mayd?”
    “Yes. That 1 Billy. And well go ther 1 day. Its not so far away.”
    He stands ded stil & stares & wunders. He turns his eyes to the enormus sky abuv with alredy the first few stars that shyn in it. How can it be that thers so much spase? How can it be that hes so small? He shudders & gasps & feels that he will fall.
    “O poor Billy its tym to return” his mother says.
    But he cannot stop his lissenin & feelin & his lookin lookin.
    The sun appears for its final moment below a jet blak clowd abuv the blak horizon & it blasts its final golden lite at them wich turns them into brite & shinin golden things that stand ther at eech othas syd.
    They stumbl bak at last throu nere darknes. Back acros the rubbl crunch crunch rattl crunch. Throu the gate & the dilapidayted garden crunch crunch rattl crunch.
    She fumbls with her key. She turns the lok & lets them in & they enter the kitchin & shes switchin on the lite & closin the curtans to block Blinkbonny owt.
    “O Billy” she says. “What a dredful thing to be a chyld in such a plays of devastayshon.”
    The boy holds on to the taybls edj. He closes his eyes. The vishon of Blinkbonny rores within him.
    “Im so sory” she wispers. “It was all supposed to be so different.”
    He turns his eyes to her.
    “Its lovely Mam” he grones at her. “Its byutiful.”
    And all this nite he wil not slepe for the aykin of his mussels & the stingin of his bones & the thumpin of his hart & the byuty & the wunder of this world.

Tap tap. Tap tap.
    The sownd of a stik on a dore.
    Tap tap. Tap tap.
    “Whats that?” hisses Mam.
    The tappin agen then the sownd of a voys comin throu the dore.
    “Veronica! Veronica!”
    Mam gos to the dore & bows a littl as she opens it.
    “Weve left you long enuf,” says Missus Malone. “How ar you getting on William?”
    “Say very well thank you Missus Malone,” says Mam.
    “V-very wel th-thank —”
    “A polyt childe” says Missus Malone. “He is a credit to you Veronica. I hav sum stray strands.” She tuches her hare. “Can you see? They need attenshun. Ill sit here if I may.”
    She sits on a kitchen chare & fases me. She hangs her stik on the bak of the chare. Mam puts a towl rownd her sholders.
    “Now then William. I hav wayted for this tym. I beleev that you hav a purpos. Ar you aware of