Lucky's Girl Read Online Free PDF

pulled out a big knife and had sat next to the deer, just out of reach of the antlers. He kneeled down, whispering soothingly and gently stroking its fur. Then he put his hands over its eyes and cut its throat.
    When the knife had slashed across the buck’s throat, Lucky had reached out a hand and yelled “Wait!” with an expression of pure panic on his face.
    In that moment he’d known he was stronger than other people. His dad had killed the deer to end its suffering. Lucky had been fascinated: he wanted to watch the deer feeling every last moment of its pain. He wanted to know, and his weak silly dad had ended it right when it had gotten interesting. He was disappointed but in so doing had discovered a whole new realm of the senses to experiment with.
    He smiled sweetly. “It’s okay, Dad, you did the right thing. That was pretty rough for this big ol’ buck, eh?”
    The Rev had never suspected a thing. He’d never know that his son was prowling the woods for animals to experiment on with metal, fire, and sometimes even household chemicals. He loved their thrashing and screaming, trying to live, trying not to feel the pain he became so adept at administering. It was during one of these experiments that the Big Tree had first called out to him.
    He’d wounded a fawn with a .22 and had wanted to cut its hooves off with bolt cutters. Would it try to run still? Would it be able to? What exactly would it do?
    He was just about to start cutting when the wind blew through his mind, images swaying with the leaves on the breeze. He should go to Grove Island! No one would see him, he could wade over to the island carrying the deer to the Big Tree.

    It made perfect sense, yet none at all. He carried it kicking and yelping through the woods to the shore of Elton Lake and waded across, completely oblivious to the fact that someone could have seen him. But he was determined like never before, had pushed aside the nagging thoughts: What are you doing? Stop! You’re going to get caught! It had never occurred to him ‘til later in life, but that was the first time he’d doubted himself. But he wasn’t alone in his head that day, he was with his new teacher: The Big Tree.

    He set the fawn down before the towering tree where the bad kids would make campfires and smoke pot. He sat on a gnarled clump of the giant tree’s roots. The Big Tree certainly was a weird thing, wider that any white pine but gnarled and knotty like no tree he’d ever seen. The other kids said Grove Island was haunted and the Big Tree was where the ghosts lived. The Indians thought Grove Island was bad juju. But they were fools, none of them knew what it meant to know. They were weak, and he was strong.
    The Big Tree was a God, his God.
    He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. No one told him to, he just did. Exactly like the people in church getting slain in the spirit and speaking in tongues, the spirit of the Big Tree washed over and through him. He chanted strings of monosyllables, over and over until patterns became verses, prayers in a tongue not spoken for thousands of years.
    He was shown how it was and how it should be.
    Man was a Hunter but had fallen through his worship of weakness. Those who came to the Big Tree gave up their weakness, their reasons and rationalizations, and embraced their true nature. They would kill as they pleased, fuck as they pleased, and worship a true God.
    He let the chant carry his hands to the knife. He slid it through the delicate skin of the fawn’s belly. It screamed, the blood pouring over his hands as he reached inside and pulled a handful of intestines into the sunlight.
    And he KNEW !
    The next day he would take the little girl who sat in front of him in class. Her name was Mary. She’d always looked over her shoulder at him, blushing a deep shade of scarlet whenever he caught her. He would follow her home and approach her at the trailer where she lived with her parents. Her parents wouldn’t be home. She