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Mor(t)ality Preview

The first ten pages of my novel to serve as a teaser. Subject to change, criticism encouraged.

By Page MaxwellPublished 3 years ago 16 min read
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Entry #26 January 15th

I tried again but no sound, except for when Thirgood has a fit. He’s got eyes just like mine, Sec too. I’m scared for these boys. I don’t know what to do without my voice, without a road to walk on. I can’t get out of this rocker until someone calls for me. I can’t do wrong if I’m not doing much of anything, but I’ve been doing nothing for way too long. I put my ear up to the wall one last time, listening for it. Nothing. The only thing left for me to listen to is this rifle, hoping it’s voice doesn’t ring in the echo.

Chapter 1

Sec tells me lots about Pa, about how he used to sit around and do next to nothing, speaking next to nothing. Most he would do would keep Sec up all night with his crying. I really wish I could remember the man. Pa taught him everything about the ranch, but after he did, he reduced to a sad shell of his former self until his death, according to Sec. Sec said he did it himself, but I don’t quite get it.

I just wish he would’ve waited so I could at least know what he looked like, maybe even talk to him once if I was feeling greedy. Tomorrow will be another birthday without him, but Chuck said he’d start letting me help around the ranch for a change. Chuck’s like my new Pa, but Sec doesn’t see him that way. Chuck brought the money we needed after Pa died, and that’s the reason he’s stayed for so long. He’s been around for some years now, about as long as the patches of bruises and gauze that cover my mother.

She doesn't talk much, so I try to keep busy talking to Sec, but not today. Sec’s been busy chopping trees, getting our lumber together and preparing for winter. I’ve been stuck alone on my favorite stump again, thinking like I always do. This stump is one that Pa cut down to build the shed, just one of the few things around here that remind me of him, so I sit on it a lot. The sun drooped slowly behind the forest that surrounded my sight. It was quite a walk from here to the cabin, so I started my trek back, hoping to get home before dark.

Got home before dark, just as planned, to see everyone around the table, finishing up their supper. Chuck threw a fit as usual, this time about me not being home before dark, even though I was. I made the mistake of asking how much supper was left.

“None! Shoulda came sooner,” Chuck stands and yells. Sec remained seated, eyes fixed on Chuck, so much so that he seemed to freeze for a moment. Chuck, too drunk to notice much of anything, continues drinking. Sec continues staring. I go to my room, and pull out a biscuit I’d hidden underneath my bed for times like this. It was hard and old, but I was really hungry. It was too dark in my room to see or care about all of its imperfections. After my biscuit, I just rolled over and stared at my wall, ready to sleep. Sec came in and gave me the rest of his supper.

“You sure, Sec?” I had to ask, I didn’t want him to suffer from my mistakes.

“Yeah, I hid a biscuit. I’ll be fine.” He replied, before noticing the crumbs that lied beside me. We both laughed, and chatted while I ate supper. As we’re wrapping up our chat and telling each other goodnight, Ma walks in with an extra plate.

“Here, Thirgood. I hid an extra serving just in case Chuck decided to eat all yours again,” She explained.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it Ma, Sec brought me some of his supper to finish,” I answered back happily.

“Oh ok, hon. Thank you Sec,” she said softly as she turned back down the hall. Right after we heard screaming coming from the kitchen, it was Chuck.

“Oh, so now you’re hiding food from me?” A loud smack sound preceded a thud that didn’t quite shake the house, but it stirred Sec enough to jump up, teeth and fists clenched.

“Sec,” I paused for a moment, but not the way he did, “Are you alright?”

He looked back at me, making my eyes open up and mirror his glare that came out of Hell itself. His eyes relaxed, before being weighed down to the floor after seeing my reaction.

“Sorry Thirgood,” He said leaving the room and shutting the door, “Sweet dreams.”

The dreams weren’t sweet, they never are. I wake up to Chuck’s palm over my face, “C’mon you little shit, if you wanna help much at all out here on the field, you gotta get up early.” He sat me up, gripping my face. I’d actually slept better than usual, although that was quickly forgotten. “Get dressed and meet me outside, boy,” he said leaving my room and slamming my door.

“Aight, den,” I answered him on his way out, resenting my life more than usual. Cyclical meals, sleep, and abuse, that’s what I looked forward to. He was waiting for me just outside the front door. The herd wasn’t far of a walk, we went silently beside each other.

“Aight, now go on over to the other side of the herd so you can see what I’m doing.,” He said pointing his whip in that direction. As I make my way around the herd, Chuck lights a cigarette. As I get to the point where Chuck had directed me, he winds his arm back and cracks his whip as hard as he could at a cow, evoking a sound I’d never heard from any cattle. As one cow ran, so did five, so did ten, and then so did the herd, right at me.

I turned to run, but was stopped by a sudden but not surprising charge from a cow with mutual feelings of fear and confusion. We were both running, but I was slower. Looking over my shoulder, I watch the gap between the herd and I slowly shrink. My heart was pounding, the nerves clammed my mouth shut, the fear caused a single misstep that put me on the ground.

The first few avoided me as they came past, but it wasn’t long before something deep in my left shoulder snapped under a hoof, but I heard it more than I could feel it at that moment. I reactively got up and was berated by cattle coming by but I kept my balance. I jumped beside and between the herd as they came by and dove as far as I could to try and escape the stampede. I almost made it too, except for my leg that found itself in one of the latter cattle’s paths. The pocket directly behind my right knee cups a hoof as it goes over me, evoking a similar sound that my shoulder made.

As I roll onto my back to sit up and look at my knee, the pain in my shoulder sets in and I lay back down. I didn’t even think about my shoulder when I leapt like that, but I could’ve ended up much worse if I hadn’t. Laying there with eyes fixed on the faint moon of the morning sky, I was glad it was over despite my injuries. Movement in my peripheral vision hooks my attention toward the house, where I see Sec move with an accelerating pace over to Chuck. I tried to sit up and call out to him but the pain of both put me flat down on my back.

I roll over onto my stomach and start to push myself up using my right arm and left leg. Balancing between the two working limbs, I lift my head up to see Chuck raising the whip.

“Hey, back up boy!,” Chuck yelled at the approaching Sec, “I’ma crack you!”

Sec walked faster, equally silent, not reacting to the whip that struck him. He knocked Chuck to the ground and took the whip out of his hand before hitting him once in the face and wrapping the whip around his throat. I didn’t feel confident in fully standing up, and so I mainly kicked myself forward and caught myself with my left hand, hobbling irregularly toward them. Sec dragged Chuck by the whip around his throat. I watched Chuck's flailing and struggling dwindle like a premature calf that’s being dragged into a shallow grave.

As I stumble forward, I spot a stick that wasn’t a bad size for a makeshift walking cane. I made my way over with a more relaxed pace; finding grace in that stick for it’s convenient size and place. I take a few breaths after standing myself up and continuing my trek to the shed. The sun rises from behind the shed ever so slightly and so I hopped forward with my head down, squinting as I stepped. My contorted shadow follows like a fractured marionette as my aches are expedited by the walking stick. I’m not sure why I was so determined to get to the shed; I wasn’t in the condition to stop Sec, nor did I want to. I probably just wanted to watch.

The closer I got, the faster I got. The faster I got, the more the pain accumulated until I found a rhythm and commendable pace. I was so focused on the rhythm I’d created that I felt like I was there in the blink of an eye. I stop a few feet in front of the shed door, and then it hits me as my adrenaline leaves: deep and sharp pain in my shoulder and knee bring me back down onto the ground. I yelp as my tailbone smacks against the soil, catching Sec’s attention from inside.

“Thirgood,” he comes out and squats down to help me up, “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad, Sec,” I whined as I clenched my knee, “ I dunno if I’ll ever walk the same again, and I’m not sure but my shoulder is pretty messed up too.”

He nodded and looked down at the ground beneath us, a gentle nod evoked from an easy decision. He raised me up by my good arm and let me balance and hop my way into the shed. Chuck sat tied to a chair with rope and the same whip he used to crack Sec with earlier. I sat up on the workbench next to Sec reactively and twiddled my thumbs since swinging my feet reminded me of my aches. I sat there silently next to my brother as he shuffled through the tools and his busy scowl was interrupted by moments of relief as he gradually gathered all that he needed.

I sat there quietly and patiently, humming to myself as a younger brother should, I suppose. I never dared challenge Sec, not only was he the older sibling, but he was always so confident and certain about his actions that I couldn’t help but watch. Metal stake in one hand and a hammer in the other, he walked over to Chuck who was restrained onto his stomach. Occasional groans and twitches gave the illusion of consciousness, but he wasn’t aware of very much at all.

“Hey,” Chuck started to ask in a broken, staggered speech, “What’re you…”

Sec didn’t let him finish his sentence before he hammered that metal stake into the lower half of Chuck’s spine. Screams filled the shed and emptied the nearby woods. Sec was more aggressive than accurate, moving with furious haste. Chuck’s screams quaked and dwindled as the stake was wedged between each disc, making its way up his spine until all he could muster were pitiful groans soaked in drool. They both seemed much more relaxed once Sec had finished.

Sec stood there, staring down at Chuck as he tossed and caught the hammer to himself for a few moments before nodding to himself and putting the hammer and stake away. I hadn’t budged on the workbench, sitting still and attentive to Sec and his procedure. He checked Chuck’s pulse, eliciting groans and mumbled words from him.

“The HELL you say to me, boy?” Sec screamed as loud as he could at a moment's notice.

“I… I c-can’t feel a-a,” Choking on the words, his voice cracked as he whispered to Sec, “I can’t f-f-feel anything.”

“Oh, really?” he answered in a surprised and high pitch before immediately darting out of the shed, uttering to himself, “We’ll see ‘bout that.”

Chuck beat his head against the table with what little effort his body had left, before shaking it and crying from the eyes within it. I hadn’t really moved much besides the occasional twitch. It wasn’t too long before Sec was back and started doing something just outside the shed. I didn’t really want to move much from my injuries. Chuck didn’t really put the effort into looking at what Sec was up to, either. After a moment though, the inside of the shed slowly brightened up, and you could hear wood cracking as it was stirred. Sec’s shadow came around and was cast onto the wall of the shed, steering Chuck’s eyes over to me.

“Please,” Chuck shaked as he stared into me, “I’m sorry.”

A feeling rose within me like a bubble, but Sec came back in before it could come to the surface. He stood in the doorway, holding a branding iron, with a slight orange glimmer in his eyes as they reflected the glowing tip of the iron. The brand was a small symbol that’s meaning was unimportant to me, Chuck tried to explain it through screaming and spitting in my face, so I never really cared to remember. Either way, it was small and sharp amongst other things.

He held the end of that iron brand no more than an inch away from one of Chuck’s eyes. As Chuck reactively flinched and yelped, Sec directed the branding iron down into Chuck’s mouth, searing his tongue. The branding iron stirred and bounced between Chuck’s teeth like the tubes of a wind chime blown by steaming saliva. He gasped for air: screaming out a cloud of smoke from his melting tongue and throat.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Sec pushed the brand down into his throat, and you could faintly make out the shape of the brand as it bulged against the inside of his throat. Sec stood there, his smile growing behind gaseous gags and gulps that fill the silence left by the brand cooling and resting in the back of Chuck’s throat. That bubbly feeling arose again, murky as it condensed; I slouched from the effervescent anchor in my chest before it popped.

The voice rolled within me like thunder, my sight opened as my vision darted between Sec and Chuck, confused because it didn’t sound like either of them. I didn’t recognize the voice. I’m not even sure I heard it. It just surfaced inside me in a sudden way, from what felt like an outside force: a thought or feeling that wasn’t my own. Electric discord riveted through my body, I almost started to tear up staring at Chuck’s static eyes. I couldn’t cry though, not in front of Sec, and not about Chuck, but I don’t think it was right of Sec to do that.

Sec turned and grabbed a spool of fishing line and threaded it into a needle. After threading it, he set it down right next to me on the workbench before turning back to Chuck, who’s vocabulary had been reduced to silence. Sec reached over him, grabbed him from under his arm and rolled him over onto his back. Chuck’s dull glare was fixed forward on the planks/logs(?) that held the shed roof together. He with eyes as pale as his cheeks: glossy, empty and unaware of the air that hung above him.

“Is he even alive?” I ask rhetorically.

Sec flinched and his head snapped over his shoulder with eyes widened with fear before quickly calming down.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you were here,” He seemingly exhaled his stress, before inhaling it again, “And no but who cares? Did he ever really even live in the first place? Is the life of a leech worthy of the idea that it is equal to its host? Is he even…”

He hyperventilated the stress. I lost focus on the specifics of his rant, and walked up and gave him a hug. Sec had a habit of scaring himself, and I felt like I could help him with some comfort. I didn’t care if the glue of our bond in that moment was the blood of our stepfather, I was just happy to have my big brother protect me. I was just happy that someone cared enough about me to go through all that trouble, it’s the reason I love(d) my brother.

My grip around Sec loosened as he started to walk away, back toward Chuck with the threaded needle. I went back over to where I was sitting before, and kept watching. Something kept me in there; It could’ve been Sec or it could’ve been Chuck, but it was probably my broken leg.

Sec leaned over and started doing something to Chuck’s face, something I couldn’t see since he was blocking my view. Sec didn’t move much as he stood there, and he didn’t stand there for very long either. After a moment he backed up and nodded to himself in approval. He stepped out of the way for me to see.

“Whatcha think?” He asked, turning and facing me.

“I mean, I don’t think he planned on saying much anyway,” I answered with my first thought.

Sec looked over his shoulder back at Chuck, laughing softly in satisfaction. He put the needle and line away before grabbing a blade and cutting the restraints off of Chuck. He pulled the brand out of Chuck’s throat and stood it in the corner.

“I’ma have to clean that later,” he said, walking outside the shed and bringing in the wheelbarrow that laid beside it. He put the wheelbarrow flush against the table that Chuck laid upon, before grabbing a hold of each of Chuck’s legs. He pulled Chuck off of the table and into the wheelbarrow without much consideration for his well-being, before wheeling him out of the shed.

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