The Butcher and the Butterfly (29 page)

The breath was
still there. The wind still blew over him but the breath blew on
him. It was intoxicating that breath. Like a kiss that needn’t be
on the mouth. He reached over to touch the woman, to maybe get her
in the mood again.

But it wasn’t soft
skin he felt. It was fur.

‘YOU HAVE HAD
ENOUGH!’ The woman screamed…

…Simon awoke naked
in the front garden. His hand was holding onto something furry and
the hot breath that felt so good in the dream now felt dirty, weak.
Wrong.

He removed his
hand and looked to whatever it was lying next to him.

In the moonlight
he could see what looked like a fox; its neck twisted awkwardly,
its tongue hanging out and its stomach split by the hind legs.

The young man held
his hands to his mouth to stifle a scream and to stop the puke. But
as he did he saw they were darkened with what looked like blood; as
too was his chest and arms. Following the dark blood he looked
further down his body and when he saw what was covering his penis,
dripping from the head like a drooling hound, the puke found its
way back up, this time unhindered by covering hands; it splattered
the fox.

3

Dotty was running
in the fields; her father had recently ploughed. Her massive legs
bound across the deep ruts, her feet; bare, dug deep into the soil.
She felt free. Free as the birds in the sky and she was sure that
if she flapped her arms that she could rise into the blue wonder
and fly for miles and miles.

But the other girl
couldn’t fly. The other girl, the girl at the window, the girl of
last night’s dream, was on the floor covered in red.

Dotty stumbled to
her. The ploughed field now the front garden of Old Man Thatcham
but Dotty did not notice.

The other girl was
still. Eyes shut tight to the evil that she could see. Dotty wanted
to speak to her; to tell her it was okay. But her mouth was shut
and she had no words in her.

The red covering
the other girl wasn’t blood. Dotty knew the smell of blood all too
well and this wasn’t it. The red was paint.

Red paint.

The front garden
shifted and Dotty was in the desert. The sand was hot on her feet.
Really hot. The sun beat down on her and for the first time in a
long time; Dotty was unhappy. The other girl was still on the
floor. But now her eyes were open and she was smiling.

‘Paint it red,
Dotty. Paint it all red.’

Dotty shook her
head.

‘If you don’t,
they will kill me.’

The other girls
eyes shifted to the right and Dotty followed their gaze.

Dotty saw two men
walking toward her the desert haze making them look like ghosts;
axes in their hands blood on their clothes.

The desert grew
cold and vanished and Dotty was now in Old Man Thatcham’s butchers.
Carcasses hung from the ceiling, the pig’s faces blank; their black
eyes piercing. Dotty was scared now. The other girl had gone. She
was alone with the dead pigs.

‘Paint it all red,
Dotty.’ A voice from nowhere spoke.

‘Paint it all red
and she will live.’

The voice was all
around her, the voice was the pigs and…

Dotty awoke
screaming; her hands covering her face her legs trying to run from
the butchers and from the dead pigs.

4

Ted was lost in
the forest. He had been walking for hours and was unsure of where
he was going and why he was going there. It was hot under the trees
today, hotter than it should have been. The undergrowth was brown
with decay, the lush green forest burnt to death. He stumbled
around, lightly tripping over loose stumps and long dead roots
sticking up out of the ground like un-dead hands.

His head was
thumping. Pressure building like a pot with a tight lid on the
stove. Ted didn’t like it here.

Up ahead the
forest parted and became green again.

‘The Clearing.’
Ted said.

It was cooler now.
The trees split and the ground opened up revealing lush green
grass, a blue sky and bright yellow flowers carpeted the floor.
Looking around he saw a small hut in the corner, two little bird
like creatures were fluttering wildly in a jar. Beside them two men
sat, one was naked the other wore a brown shirt. They looked at him
and he felt as if he had interrupted a great debate. But he cared
little.

His dream eyes
made him look to his left where the floor was greener than what
surrounded it. It glowed without glowing and when Ted stepped upon
it he wasn’t surprised to feel it pulsing beneath his feet. He
walked along the path away from the clearing and soon he found
himself back in the hot forest; but that too didn’t faze him.

He walked for some
time unaware of the sweat pouring from his body until he came
across a woman.

The woman was
tall. Plain faced with deep green eyes that stars could be born of.
She stood surrounded by a pale glow; her hands were by her side,
her head slightly tilted to the ground.

She spoke softly
to Ted. ‘I am here because of them, Ted.’

Ted sat upon the
floor and looked up at the woman. ‘Who?’ Ted asked.

‘One will kill you
and your daughter. The other is sent to kill him.’

‘I don’t
understand.’

‘You are not
supposed to Ted. Your daughter is in danger. A man is on a path to
meet you this very day. He can help. Will help, without question;
for it is his destiny.’

‘Dotty. In danger?
How?’

The woman looked
Ted in the eyes and he was entranced by her.

‘I cannot tell you
Ted, for it is not I that chose your destiny. I only help you on
your way.’

Ted rubbed at his
eyes. ‘Who sent you to help me?’

‘You’re wife.’

Teds eyes filled
with tears but he did not cry.

‘And who are
you?’

The woman moved
toward Ted and knelt before him. She held his head in her hands and
wiped away the tears. Her skin was cold but soft. Her eyes, massive
now that they were close, were lidless but full of life.

‘I am Palaluka and
we shall not meet again.’

Ted moved his
right hand meaning to touch her face…

…But he awoke to
screaming. He didn’t register for a moment what was happening. He
reached up to his cheek to try and savour the touch of the woman
but she was gone.

The screaming
intensified shaking Ted from his dream. Dotty was having another
nightmare.

5

Mike had left home
early the next morning. He had awakened from a dreamless sleep. He
knew that he had to be away from this place before the girl
arrived. Whatever he wanted her for it wasn’t until this evening
that he would do whatever it was that he had to do.

He had been
thinking like that as he walked into the shed by the side of the
house and made sure the paint he had bought for the fence was still
there. He had dragged out the paint tins, opened them with a
screwdriver and looked into the whiteness unaware of anything else.
Grabbing a loose blade from the work bench he had cut his hand and
dripped blood into the tins turning the white paint red. He would
not remember doing any of this. When his work was done he replaced
the lids, put the paint out on the front porch and walked to
work.

And that is where
we find Mike now; sat on his fat backside in his little office at
the back of the butchers. His mind is blank. His eyes watching the
clock slowly tick around waiting for closing time. He knew
something would happen when he got home tonight and that something
concerned the girl, the woman and him. That’s it.

6

Simon did as he
was told. He walked from his house before the girl got there and
headed toward the river. It took him most of the early morning to
get there and when he sat upon the bank watching the river flow
past he thought of the woman that had come to him in his dreams.
The dreams were becoming real. She was becoming real and tonight
the woman would come to him and he would have her and they would be
together for all time.

For all time.

7

Daisy and Doyle
went to work as normal. Their nights had been dreamless but Varula
had done her work. She had played them both. Told them to stay
away, to forget about her for now and focus on the important things
in life. Daisy was only come to her when she wanted her too and the
same went for Doyle. But in Doyle’s case; the Fates will play their
own little games and we shall see Doyle a little later.

8

Dotty did not
remember her nightmare and her father had not mentioned anything
when they sat and ate breakfast in almost silence. When she had
left for Thatcham’s, Ted had asked her to be careful and that if
she should feel scared today or if she felt in danger that she
should come home straight away. Not dilly dallies. Home and fast.
The days were still warm but the nights drew in fast.

Dotty had nodded
but not really understood. Going to work today was important and
nothing would stop her. She walked to work that morning not happy,
not sad. She thought about the girl she had seen yesterday but even
that thought was short. Lost to the birds swooping from the sky and
to the rabbits hopping across the lanes.

That day she had
worked hard. The fence was her swan song if you like and Dotty
somehow knew this. She painted like her life depended on it. The
fence turning from white to red quickly. The red paint splattering
her from top to tail.

As she painted she
imagined herself as a beautiful butterfly floating gently on the
summer breeze. Landing on little flowers here and there and
speaking with the other insects of the forest. What she didn’t know
and would soon become quite apparent was that the butcher would
soon try and clip those butterfly wings.

The Butcher and the
Butterfly

1

Mike Thatcham
wasn’t watching the clock that hung on his office wall but the
sounds of its mechanics filled the room. He has no idea of the
time, no idea that the cut on his hand ached for that matter. He
was lost in a miasma of nothing. He knew not of the conversations
he had had with himself during the day. That his two employees had
passed by the door to his office a few times and commented to each
other that the old man was mumbling to himself. The words were hard
to catch all except two; oil and coal.

At roughly
five-fifteen, there a came a soft tapping at Mikes office door. It
was his usual alarm call but it came a small shock to the distant
man sat in the semi darkness. One of the butchers informed Mike
that his taxi was waiting and then scuffled away.

Mike, grabbing his
coat and his summer cap trundled from the office, caring not if the
door was locked and headed out of the front entrance.

On the cobbled
roadway there stood his carriage for the evening driven by his
usual ‘man’ Edwards. Mike like, Edwards. He was as old as the
mountains but mindful of the privacy of such a well to do business
man such as Mr Thatcham. Also he was quite, not one of r small talk
and the usual filler that can sometimes be the want of a taxi
driver.

Old man Edwards
doffed his cap and readied the two horses as Mike climbed aboard
the carriage. It was well furnished, clean and, even though the
cobbled streets were bumpy and the paths to his own home mostly off
the beaten track, rather comfortable. Mike let out a soft cough and
Edwards clicked his throat and they were off.

The cool night air
drifted over Mike. The smells of the city giving way to the muddy
stink of the river Strain. They crossed the bridge, the day’s sky
giving way to dusk. Once over the bridge the cobbled street
disappeared and the rutted track took its place. Edwards was a good
driver, that’s why Mike requested him, but even Edwards couldn’t
stop the carriage from rocking on the occasional deep rut or
boulder that dotted the track.

It wasn’t long
before the horses were directed off the track and down into a
shaded valley.

Long the road a
little ways, hidden in the darkest part of Thatcham’s shed, Varula
was coming to life.

2

‘Remember me, Big
Daddy? Remember what I can give you? Remember what I said I can get
for you? A familiar voice said deep in the recesses of Mikes
mind.

Mike nodded and
wiped his sweaty brow. Of course he remembered. How could he
forget? He was about to answer when he felt a twinge in his pants.
A twinge that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The twinge became a
caress, not some whorish grab that he had become accustomed too.
The ghostly hands that had been caressing his balls drifted away
and the womanly voice returned.

‘I know you won’t
forget me Big Daddy.’

Mike felt a soft
hand touch his face and he moved in toward it.

‘She painted the
fence today, didn’t she Big Daddy. A fence you insisted was painted
white, didn’t you Big Daddy?’

‘Yes she was.’
Answered Mike to the voice in his head. He cared little for what
Edwards might or might not hear. In fact, he gave Edwards little to
no thought.

‘Let’s hope she
did not disappoint, Big Daddy.’ The soft hand upon his face drifted
away leaving him slightly sad but happy that the woman had
returned.

The taxi turned
the final two corners and Mike scanned the newly painted fence that
was presented to him.

Clutching the cap
he wore from his head the throwing it to the floor Thatcham jumped
from his seat and stood bolt upright.

‘That stupid
mother fucker!’ he yelled to anyone that would hear him.

‘That fucking
motherless piece of fuck!’ He once again yelled spraying the near
vicinity with phlegm. ‘Stop the taxi, Edwards! For fuck sake slow
this cart down!’

The driver
startled slowed the horses to a crawl and the brought them to a
stop. It was just in time as Mike jumped down from the carriage and
ran, a little clumsily mind you, toward his house and to what
Edwards thought was a lovely newly painted fence.