The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean by David Almond

Author:David Almond [Almond, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-7636-6725-2
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2011-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

Missus Malones dore. Thers wooden bords nayld at the windos. Thers a blak dore & a silva nocka & a wite sine with thees words printed on it.

She opens a number of locks with a number of keys. She leads me in. Its dark in ther. She switches littl lamps on as she gose deeper. She takes me throu a narro hallway. Tap tap gose her stik tap tap.

She takes me to a littl room. Thers curtans arl arownd it & just darknes past the curtans. Thers a smarl round tabl at the center shiny & polishd with a numba of chares rownd it.

She sits down with a siy & rubs her hip & flinches.

“Oooo” she goes. “Aaaaah.”

She stryks a match & lites a lamp that hangs down from the seelin ova the senter of the taybl. It hisses as it starts to burn. I see that arl arownd the edjes of the taybl thers letters writ in gold.

“Sit down William” she says. “Make yorself at home.”

I perch on a chare at the taybls edj.

“You ar at the gateway to the aftrelife,” she says. “To go threw it you must no yor leters. What is this for instans?”

She poynts to a particular leter.

“A” I anser.

“And this?”

I do not no & canot anser. She wayts.

“X” I gess.

“No! It is K! Yes it looks a bit the saym but it is K! What is it?”

“K.”

“Corect at last. Maybe you shud just stik to the letters that you do no. Then we wil understand how far we hav to go.”

I point them owt & speke them.

“Wel it cud be wors,” she says.

She points to the words that ar laid into the tabl.

“Do you no what this says?” she says.

“It says Yes.”

“Aha! Exelent. And this?”

“It says No.”

“Well well well. And this?”

I cannot anser.

“It says Goodbye, William. It is the word that the spirit tuches wen it leeves.”

I tuch the word & feel the shining letters that create it. I trays the shayp of them.

“Thats rite,” she says. “Thats the way to lern. Speak the letters as you tuch them, William. G-O-O-D-B . . .”

I ecko the sownds she makes. I ecko the final word Goodbye.

“Thats good,” she says. “Some of your fathers intellijens must hav come into you. Spell it agen. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Will he come bak agen Missus Malone?”

She frowns. She says she dusnt understand. Then she nos Im tarking of my father.

“Him? Who nos what he will do. Who nos if hes living or if hes . . .”

She hesitayts. She trayses the leters on the taybl agen. The lamp hisses abuv our heds.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

She siys.

“Thers no way of nowing that, William.”

Then she rayses her eyes from the leters on the taybl.

“If he is dead William, maybe he wil come to us here. Maybe he wil speak to us here in this parlor. Maybe you wil fynd him wayting for you when you step throu the doreways to the afterlife.”

I gayz at her throu the lamplite. I dont realy no what shes on abowt.

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