This is a sample from my upcoming Novel tentatively titled THE BUTTERFLY KILLER. This is my NANOWRIMO Project.
National Novel Writers Month
Excerpt
My name is Elliot. Gram called me Sweet Pee. P E E. I pissed
the bed often. Another thing Gramp didn’t like. Said I made the house smell
like amonia, except it was piss. Gram said I would grow out of it. Said my mama
was a pisser until she was twelve. I was only six. Might as well get used to
it.
“Only thing I gotta get used to is dying,” Gramp would say
to her.
“Well I figure a butcher ought to be used to the idea of
death.”
“You used to Carrie being dead?” Gram shut her mouth.“I
ain’t used to nothing. Everyday is a new day and a new mystery. Everything I
gut got a different soul. And that soul ain’t used to being dead. So it leaps
right into something else.”
“I don’t know if hogs have souls.”
“Everything has a soul. Ever brute God made got a soul.”
“Do it hurt to die, Gramp?” I asked him
“Does it hurt,” Gram orrected me.
“I don’t know, Sweet Pee. The hogs don’t complain. It hurts
to live. That’s where the pain is.”
“Is that why Mama and Daddy died, ‘cause they were hurt?”
There was silence. Just the scraping of forks against
plates. Gramp took a big gulp of water. I watched the knot in his throat bob up
and down as he swallowed. I once tried to swallow a jawbreaker whole so I could
have a ball in my neck and it go up and down as I swallowed. All I did was turn
blue and get a good whack in my back from Gram making me spit the thing clear
across the floor.
“Well I wanna die so I don’t hurt,” I said.
“Hush your mouth, child,” Gram said in her high
pitched church singing voice. “Hush your mouth.
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