Book Blurb
The perfect marriage? Or the perfect lie? Alistair tells white lies. It’s easier that way. Elena loves Alistair. But he’s married to Celia. Celia likes playing games. And one day soon someone is going to get hurt. The only question is - who?
Extract
I didn’t want to kill him.
I didn’t want to kill any of them.
But death happens. It’s all about numbers. Population dynamics. A mathematical constant which stipulates some things must die. Not that he would die because of resources or predation; no, he would die because he had hurt me, and for that he couldn’t go unpunished.
He was the buff-tailed bumblebee which I kept in an old fish tank in the spare room. I went to my bumblebee early in the morning, when the bee was too cold to fly or fight. Its face was furry, as black as my soul, and the stripes were yolk yellow. I watched it for a while, perfect and oblivious, preening its body and warming its wings. I had gone to a lot of effort to nurture my bee and I was very attached to it. Regardless, it stung me, and so it needed to suffer before the end.
After removing the tank lid, I swooped in with a pair of tweezers, plucked it out and pinned it to the windowsill. The poor little thing refused to keep still, and so I trapped its wing beneath a glass paperweight. It scrambled for a while, though stopped briefly when I removed a leg with a pair of silver scissors. For several minutes it seemed to rally, adjusting to its worsening predicament, and it bravely tolerated the loss of another two legs and an antenna. The crumpled wing looked so untidy on the beautiful creature that I decided to snip it off too. Only after the loss of the wing, and with it the chance to be free, did it finally give in.
With the tip of my finger, I touched what was left of the bee. The remaining wing was clingfilm flimsy and the soft hairs were like a money spider crawling across my skin. I held it to my lips and breathed across its desecrated body.
I had denied the bee of its freedom, provoked and exhausted it, and made it suffer in every way. Its tolerance, however, had been remarkable—unlike those before it which simply curled up and died.
I supposed insects were just like people.
Yes, they absolutely were.
Author Bio
Kerry Birds lives in Derbyshire with her husband and two boys. She is an Environmental Chemist who started reading fiction in her thirties and took up writing soon after. She now writes prolifically, partly to quieten her anxious mind.
In 2018 she self-published her first novel, Share My Sky, which was brilliantly received. Rainbows in a Storm and its sequel soon followed. She’s had her nose to the grindstone ever since.
In her spare time, Kerry loves to be with her family, preferably walking on mountains or moorlands, where she finds the perfect places to eat cake and drink tea. She likes seeing friends, going to writing group, stalking bumblebees and drinking wine.
Follow her at:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KerryBWriter
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