The night crisped and curled with the smell of pigs in the distance. Beaux marched on, to the shed and the man inside.
Once, uncle Less resided in the cottage but his late night carving drove aunt Losa insane. So, a few summers ago, Beaux and the twins built this little shed and banished uncle Less to it. Not that the old man minded. When Beaux led him to it one sunny morning his uncle skipped and beamed at the wood panels and simple interior. Shame pierced Beaux's heart. Once every couple of days, Aunt Losa would storm in and drag him to the bath to wash, trim, and maintain him. The girls would clean the shed, complaining loudly the entire time.
All day and night Uncle Less remained in the shed. Not locked away or kept, but living in content joy. A child forever in his play castle. It seemed that the only person it bothered was Beaux.
He knocked on the door politely, gripping the bowl in his hand. A thud could be heard from inside and suddenly the door was opened. Uncle Less smiled broadly at Beaux and laughed loudly.
"Beaux, Beaux, BEAUX." He exclaimed, snatching the bowl from his hand and turning back inside. As uncle Less moved, his fingers twitched and he teetered side to side. His hair was blonde and shaggy, a dark brown stubble grazing his crooked chin. Uncle Less was much shorter than Beaux, and had a rounded belly underneath his loose tunic. Beaux followed him inside.
The room was small, the cot sitting close to the little fireplace that was roaring despite the summer heat. On the other side was the work bench. Covered in wax and carving tools. Candles. That was what Uncle Less loved more than anything else. The room smelled horrid, from the pig fat he rendered for his art. Black smoke stained the ceiling into dark streaks.
"You should really open the window every once in a while for fresh air, Uncle." Beaux coughed, making his way to the stool facing the work table. As he peered at the organized clutter, Beaux felt nothing but amazement. Intricate figurines lined the work table, and Beaux reached for one shaped like a great naval ship. Turning it from one side to the other to admire its design.
"The Voyager was a proud battleship, it had a b-b-bow 80 meters long and the hull was strapped with iron riders for stability." He said, ignoring Beaux's other statement plopping down on the cot to demolish his meal.
Uncle Less had always been very happy. Gloom never clouded his mind or heart, and he was in the habit of divulging facts about random topics.
Wicks hung from the little window, letting candles of all shapes dry. When Beaux did the regular slaughtering, before bringing his meats to the market for sale, he cut the majority of the fat off for his uncle's crafts. It was his gift to the uncle that kept his family safe simply by existing. Property couldn't be handed down to women, a policy of older times, and with most common men being sent to die in the battle fields their land was often taken by a village leader or a male relative. His uncle, who was unfit to fight, would hold this land down to their family until his dying breath passed.
Cringing at the thought of what would happen if his uncle passed, Beaux turned back to Less.
"Tomorrow will be my last night on the farm, Uncle." He said in a voice that was slightly shaking.
Less stopped slurping his soup and looked to Beaux smiling. "You're going on a great a-a-adventure!" His bare feet tapped on the floor in giddy joy.
Beaux couldn't help but give him a little smile and a shrug. "I guess you could say that."
The little man beamed again taking a sip from his bowl "You know there are lots of heroes on adventures l-l-l-like the great knights and generals." He announced proudly, "You're g-g-g-great too Beaux."
Those tears he felt at sunset threatened to well again but Beaux held them back. "Sleep soundly Uncle." He managed to say before heading back to the door.
"Good night Beaux Beaux!" His uncle called before Beaux closed the door and stalked back to the cottage.
As the night air swole and pushed around Beaux, a single tear slide down his cheek.
The sleeping arrangements were more than uncomfortable. Aunt Losa and his mom shared the master bedroom, the largest of the other rooms was used as a nursery, Dona and Kandy shared, and the last was left to the boys.
After wiping his face and rinsing the stench of the day off in the washroom, Beaux moved to the room at the end of the hall. Its door slightly ajar with a candle inside burning softly. On one side was a single bed with a small hand made blanket and on the other was a set of stacked bunk beds, the top bed grazing the ceiling. Ton lounged on the lower bed flipping through some random book nonchalantly. Ton used the books from the study most often, reading until late in the night.
Beaux arched back, raising his shirt above his shoulders leaving his tanned torso bare and only his loose work pants tied to his hips. He sunk into the bed and let out a great sigh.
On the other side, Ton tossed the book onto the floor and perched on his elbows peering at Beaux.
"Fen's out seeing that Breetarch lass." He said casually.
Another annoyed sigh left Beaux "So what?"
Beaux never took a bedmate or sweetheart. He had to focus on the land and his family but he never resented the twins for their village escapades.
"She's ugly as a donkey's ass." Chortled Ton, his face sneering in mockery.
Beaux turned to his side in reply, without the energy to respond to Ton's ridiculous jabs.
"Not as cute as that Lilly girl that used to trail you like a bitch in heat." Ton mocked again, trying to get a rise out of the exhausted Beaux.
Lily Allbright was the daughter of the village head. Her long brown hair was always left loose with ribbons tied in the back. For a few years she had chased Beaux around, batting her lashes and twirling her fingers through the ends of her locks.
"Then maybe you should see if you're the type she goes for." Beaux responded without much emotion.
Beaux certainly thought she was attractive, her supple breasts and hips were enticing. The thought of acting on that attraction, knowing he'd leave her pregnant and alone in the sow was enough to keep him away. Ton huffed and blew out the candle, fading the room to darkness.
"Fen and I" his voice carried weight in the darkness, "we'll do right by you."
And Beaux let the thought drift him into a heavy slumber.
Dawn came too soon, and Beaux woke to loud snoring and a slobbering drool on his shoulder. The stench of beer and vomit made him gag as he turned his head to see Fen sprawled on the small bed next to him, an arm and leg hanging off the side. It wasn't unusual, oftentimes he'd be too drunk to haul himself up the top bed and the result was a slobbering fool snuggled next to him. When all three of them were nothing but babes, they slept together in that same bed. Ton would tell horror stories he'd read from the tattered books of the library and they'd wrestle and shove underneath their worn blanket.
Now with all three of tall and muscled from farm work, it was uncomfortable sleeping in the single beds by themselves let alone together.
Beaux shoved the drunken idiot, and he slumped to the floor in a thud. Exclaiming in surprise as a bottle clanked with him, no doubt the source of the stench Beaux had whiffed.
Rising from the bed he kicked Fen's side and tossed the single pillow at his head on the floor. He reached for his shirt on the ground and groaned when he realized it was wet with vomit.
"What was that for?" Fen groaned, flipping to his side and pushing the pillow under his head.
Beaux snarled "You're a fucking slob, get up and clean your mess."
He threw the shirt at him, and slid off the bed towards Ton who was still snoring. Shaking his shoulder he said "Get up, it's market day." Then he stalked to the bathroom.
Still shirtless, Beux went into the kitchen, the smell of cooked bacon in the air. Aunt Losa was at the stove in her day dress with her hair already pulled back for the day's work.
Without looking back she said "That fat gilt is up for the table."
Beaux knew what she meant, the female was mature and hadn't birthed a litter in the long days she was alive. He knew she'd be the meat up for sale that morning. A plate was dropped on the table, eggs, bacon, and a cooked biscuit.
She further added, "Take Kandy to the market, and cut me out some butt for supper. Scraps are on the porch."
Beaux's eyes widened; a pork roast was designated for special occasions, only kept from sale on holidays.
"And where's your shirt Beaux?" She said her eyes finally snapping to him with that cold hard stare she'd perfected over the years.
Aunt Losa didn't do small talk, and was often straight to the point with very little concern for the opinions or thoughts of others. Beaux shrinked a little from the gaze, remembering the years of corporal punishment she'd dole when Beaux was a boy. She'd been the one to teach all of the kids butchery, farrowing, and the tending of the livestock. His mother Luna was too soft at heart for the work.
"It's in the bathroom, drying." He answered reluctantly.
She huffed and turned back to the stove.
Once he finished the food and kissed his aunt's cheek to thank her, he went back to the bathroom to grab the tunic. It still smelled like vomit, though he had done his best to scrub it with the wash water. When he went back to the bedroom the twins were wrestling on the floor and the smell still clung to the air.
"Mom is going to be so pissed when she sees you." Ton said, holding Fen in a head lock.
Beaux interrupted "Enough, we have work that needs to be done, get up idiots."
Tons shocked face rose from the surprise and it was just enough for Fen to twist out of the head lock and push him off.
Beaux stormed out and headed to the front, he passed the open door of the nursery when he saw his mother, rocking one of the babes gently in her arms.
Outside, Beaux slipped on his work boots that sat in a neat row at the end of the stone entryway. Caked in mud they were worn but comfortable. And he made his way across the grass and into the mud.
Once he checked on the litter that'd been born in the spring, he let the others out into the muddied field. All except one. The large female whined in her pen as she saw the others dart into muddy glory. She was indeed fat, but not pregnant. This gilt hadn't birthed a litter since her miscarriage a couple years ago. It was the first and only time Beaux saw stillborn piglets. The likelihood of another viable litter coming was low. He had held out, hoping the gilt would somehow change but Aunt Losa's word was final.
Beaux swiftly grabbed the heavy butcher's apron that hung on a hook in the barn. And made his way to the female, her notched ear raising in curiosity, spiraled tail swishing.
Then she squealed, bled, and was butchered.
"Why do we have to kill the piggies?" Beaux asked his aunt Losa inquisitively. As he watched her work on the butcher's table in the back of the barn.
Her hands were bloody and face was steel. No emotion detected. He could barely see above the table, small and shaking.
"It's their fate." She answered cooly "They are food. People need to eat."
"Why can't we eat the grass and plants like they do?" He'd asked in his childish voice, heart beating and knees numb.
A slap across the face was his answer. The pig blood making the hit wet and loud. It stung fiercely. "Don't you dare talk back." She said pointing a long finger in his face, "we are people not swine."
After that, Beaux never asked his aunt why or where or how. He watched and learned. The steel of his mind forged in pig blood.
After the cuts were made and the meat was salted, wrapped in clean brown paper, and tied with twine, Beaux made his way to the wash bucket that sat outside the barn. He quickly washed his hands and rinsed off the fading red that dyed his skin.
The twins were outside now working in the field with the other pigs, cleaning their troughs and filling them with fresh water.
Beaux let out a slow whistle, and their heads turned.
"We can head out in half an hour." He said, "grab the packages but drop the butt off to aunt Losa."
Their eyes widened as his did that morning. I guess the reality of this being his last day working in the barn was starting to hit. Beaux rose up and took the apron off. Before he went to the cottage he left the fresh pig fat at the door of his uncle's shed.