![Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41kq7EeIZUL.jpg)
FREE Excerpt: Altered Parts by Ryan Field
The self-quarantine and social distancing continues, so I'm putting up another FREE excerpt. This time it's from my book, Altered Parts.
Here are chapters 1, 2, and 3. And here's a review:
This story will stay with you and you will feel you know every character and the beauty of their home in the mountains of North Carolina. A sequel is in order and a film as well. Bravo Field
On
Buddy’s Mountain, we didn't feel the early stages of the Second World War until
around 1940, and even then it wasn't as intense as the rest of the world. Those
of us who were too young to remember the First World War listened closely to
the radio for updates on the most recent German invasions, while those who were
old enough to remember looked the other way and frowned. I had no idea in the
summer of 1940 I was about to lose more innocence than I ever knew I had.
1940
was also the year I graduated from high school and started working longer hours
in my family's general store. On Buddy's Mountain, Buddy's Mercantile was the
only retail establishment at that time where locals could shop for anything
from basic food staples to hammers. Women could buy fabric for curtains or
homemade dresses and men could fill their gas tanks and buy fishing gear.
Children would stop in for penny candies on the way home from school. Almost
everyone on the mountain stopped in to use our telephone, which hung on a wall
in the back near a large round pickle barrel and a shelf filled with canned
goods. We were the kind of old time family owned and operated general store
that was beginning to vanish as each year passed, and my family, though limited
in number as we were, wanted to hold on to it for as long as we could.
There
was something coming that summer I hadn't anticipated, something I never could
have predicted in my wildest clichéd dreams. When my Aunt Matilda appeared from
the main house behind the mercantile one warm afternoon in late July and said, "Joe
Buddy, I can't find the tomatoes I left on the back porch last night," I
had no way to predict the magnitude of it all.
I was
on my way to the barn to work on an old car I'd recently purchased with my
graduation money. I turned fast and said, "I haven't seen them. You know I
don't eat tomatoes." Everyone called me Joe Buddy back then and I embraced
it. It was short for Joseph Buddy Barnes. Buddy…my legal middle name…was
actually my mother's maiden name. I never knew her, though. I never knew my
father either. I was raised on Buddy's Mountain by my mother's two siblings,
Aunt Matilda and Aunt Ted. They were both Buddys, too, and neither of them ever
married.
I used
to wonder sometimes why Aunt Matilda never married. She knew the meaning of
discretion and spoke with a genteel southern accent, not a country drawl. She
wasn't a bad looking woman either, with thick red hair, a medium frame, and an
eye for simple, conservative fashion trends. She could cook and keep house
better than anyone I'd ever known. She'd even gone away to college and she'd
had a steady boyfriend for a while, whom she spoke about often later in life.
I
could, however, understand why Aunt Ted had never married. Times were different
and Aunt Ted was considered "peculiar" in those days. Although she
had a slim body and a soft delicate voice, she had broad shoulders, size 12
feet, long legs, and she shaved every morning. If she hadn't decided to start wearing
exaggerated, flamboyant women's clothing when she was in her early 20s, she
would have been my Uncle Ted. Aunt Ted
rarely ventured off the mountain and we all understood why. In her own isolated
world on Buddy's Mountain no one questioned or threatened her. Everyone
considered her a harmless soul and treated her with a sense of respect she
wouldn't have found anywhere else at the time.
"Well
if you see anything unusual, Joe Buddy, let me know," Aunt Matilda said. "It's
the strangest thing. As I live and breathe, I know I set those tomatoes out on
the back porch last night for today's lunch. Your Aunt Ted is not going to like
this. She was planning on stuffed tomatoes for lunch today and you know how she
gets when things don't go just right. And what's even stranger is I went into
the barn early this morning and found a huge pile of messed up hay as if
someone had been sleeping there. I don't know what's been going on around here.
I'm starting to think this place is haunted."
I sent
her a backhanded wave and continued toward the barn. "Okay, if I see
anything I'll let you know." I really wasn't too concerned about tomatoes
or messed up hay that day, and Aunt Ted could eat a cheese sandwich for lunch
for all I cared. I'd recently purchased a 1930 Plymouth coupe and I wanted to
get it running perfectly that summer. It had been kept in a barn at a
neighboring farm for years and the blue exterior paint looked almost new. The
beige interior wasn't bad either. It's just that after years of not being
driven at all the engine needed work, and I wasn't totally sure about what I
was doing.
"Can
you take care of the store this afternoon?" Aunt Matilda asked. "Your
Aunt Ted and I have a meeting with the church women today. We can't miss it,
and Aunt Ted made herself a brand new dress just for the occasion, white lace
and a hat with long white feathers to match. I'm afraid it's quite awful just
like most of her clothes, but she likes it and that's all that matters."
"Sure,
no problem," I said. "Just let me know when you're leaving. I'll be
right here working on the car." I knew Aunt Ted was working in the store
that morning. She usually worked most of the hours, without complaint. I couldn't
refuse the request. I still hadn't decided what I wanted to do with the rest of
my life and my aunts weren't pushing me to do anything yet. They told me that
as long as I continued to help out at the store and take care of things around
the house I didn't have to rush into anything.
Of
course I knew it was their way of letting me know they wanted me to take over
the mercantile eventually. And I wasn't sure I didn't want to do that. At the
time, it was all I had ever known, and in our small world on Buddy's Mountain
it gave our family a certain amount of prestige I never would have had anywhere
else. I'd never been the book leaning type, and I had to use all of my
appendages to count change in the store. I knew how to run the store because it's
all I'd ever known, I knew how to work on cars and machines without trying too
hard, and I knew I could turn a head or two with a smile and a wink just
walking down the street in town. Aunt Ted used to tell me if I didn't study in
school good looks wouldn't get me too far in life, but I wasn't sure I wanted
to go that far in life.
I worked
on the old car for about an hour and a half and finally reached a point where
it almost started to run smoothly when I tried turning over the engine a few
times. I knew I was close to getting that knock in the engine out. It wasn't
something I could explain or describe in words, but it was something I knew in
my gut. Even though it was the first time I'd ever worked on a car, I had put
together bicycles, and whenever Aunt Matilda's washing machine needed fixing
she called me first.
There's a rhyme and reason to fixing machines that always follows
a pattern that's hard to describe. One part fits into another, and then
another, and when all of those parts are moving correctly at the same time the
machines work the way they're supposed to work. Sometimes parts go missing, or
they can’t be fixed, and in order for the machine to continue running smoothly
something has to be rigged. If you understand how to alter certain parts, there
is always a way to make it work. As I grew older I realized life's a lot like
that, too, but back then the only thing I knew about life was getting that car
running to perfection.
So I
made a face and sighed the moment I heard Aunt Ted caroling from the other side
of the mercantile. "Yoo-hoo, Joe
Buddy, we're leaving for the church meeting now. We need you in the store this
instant, sweetie."
I set
down my wrench and wiped my grease-stained hands on an old rag and said, "I'll
be right there, Aunt Ted." I'd lost track of time and didn't even realize
where the last hour and a half had gone. It felt as if I'd just started
working. When you're doing something you love, time can run away fast.
Before
I headed out, I walked to a corner of the barn and took a good long pee. I
thought I heard something rustle, but I figured it was a mouse. I smiled the
whole time I peed because I knew Aunt Ted would have had a conniption fit if
she'd seen my peeing in the barn. As far as I knew, even though I'd never
actually asked outright, Aunt Ted had been born a man until she decided to be a
woman, and the ironic twist was that she always seemed to frown upon the things
men did.
After
I shook myself off, I headed toward the main house where I knew my aunts were
waiting for me at the front gate. Even though our general store was a quaint,
white Edwardian era clapboard and typical of most general stores of that era,
our main house was a lot grander than any other house on the mountain. My
maternal grandfather must have been a lot like Aunt Ted in the sense that he
preferred a more formal ostentatious look. No home spun white pickets fences
for him.
The
main house was set off to the side of the general store, surrounded by a tall
black iron fence with scrolls and curls. The huge three story brick manor house
with black shutters had impressive white columns, a wide porch, floor to
ceiling windows, and a set of wide double doors made out of pure black walnut
that had been imported from somewhere exotic. I never paid much attention to
those things, though. I'd never known any other front doors or lived anywhere
else and they were simply the front doors of the house to me.
Evidently,
I'd forgotten to do something after I peed in the barn. Aunt Ted took one look
at me and nearly fainted dead way. "Oh, Joe Buddy, please turn around and
fix yourself. There are ladies present." Then she turned to Aunt Matilda
and shook her head. "I don't know what gets into that boy sometimes. Of
all things."
Aunt
Matilda just laughed and said, "If you don't fix things, Joe Buddy, the
pony's going to get out of the barn."
That's
when I knew I'd forgotten to pull up my zipper. I guess I must have been
rushing to finish. As I turned and pulled up my zipper, I heard Aunt Ted say, "Please
don't encourage him, Matilda. He's a good boy from a fine southern family and I
want him to know his place in life."
"Yes,
dear," Aunt Matilda said. She rarely went up against Aunt Ted on any
matter. I think that's because it was usually just easier to agree with Aunt Ted
than to challenge her. I'd seen her win arguments just by deflection alone.
Aunt Ted had that down to an art and a science.
As
soon as I turned around Aunt Ted asked, "How do I look, Joe Buddy? You
haven't said a word about my new dress?"
I sent
her a long glance and said, "You look downright fantastic, Aunt Ted. You've
never looked better. I think that's the nicest dress I've ever seen you wear.
And the hat's even nicer. You could win a contest." Then I looked at Aunt
Matilda and winked. We both knew that when you were paying Aunt Ted a
compliment the most ordinary responses wouldn't suffice. If you didn't head
things off from the start and exaggerate she'd continue fishing for more
compliments until you did.
Aunt Ted
smiled so wide I saw her back teeth. She swooped down, almost a curtsy, and
said, "Well thank you, dear boy. I'm embarrassed now. I hope the other
women won't be too jealous of me. I copied this dress from a New York fashion
magazine. It's the latest thing in New York, don’t you know."
I didn't
think she had anything to worry about in that department. No one would be
jealous. The outrageous dress was made out of white lace and satin, and
tailored perfectly to fit her extremely thin body. The white hat was made out
of the same lace and satin, but shaped kind of like a round box with long,
curved white feathers sticking out at the top. She wore white patent leather
high heels to match, and as usual it looked as though she'd applied her pancake
make-up with a putty knife. Even her false eyelashes and red lipstick seemed
more exaggerated that day. However, I just exchanged a glance with Aunt Matilda
and said, "You look really good in it, Aunt Ted. Like a real high style
lady."
Before
Aunt Ted had a chance to curtsy again, Aunt Matilda brought her back to reality
and said, "Okay, let's get the lead out of it, Ted. I don't want to be
late again. We can all tell you how wonderful you look later tonight at supper.
Right now I'd like to get this show on the road."
Aunt Ted
blinked. "Well. Honestly. You
don't have to be rude, Matilda. Father brought us up better than that."
She'd
picked up the word, honestly, from a
movie she'd seen in town earlier that year and whenever someone challenged her
or said something she found shocking she repeated it. But Aunt Matilda had no
time for that sort of thing. She headed toward the garage and said, "We
should be home before suppertime, Joe buddy. If you could sort the afternoon
mail I'd appreciate it."
"Sure
thing, Aunt Matilda," I said, as I watched them cross toward the garage
next to the barn. Buddy's Mercantile was also the only post office on the
mountain and Aunt Matilda was in charge of all things postal related because
Aunt Ted said she didn't like getting ink on her fingers. She claimed it ruined
her manicure.
They
bickered about whether to take the truck or "father's Cadillac." The
truck was a fairly new 1938 green Ford pick-up with signs on each door that
advertised the mercantile. The Cadillac was a ten year old jet black relic that
had been one of my grandfather's last big purchases in life, and it didn't even
fit totally in the garage. Aunt Ted argued that the Cadillac went well with her
new dress and hat, while Aunt Matilda claimed the truck used less gas and she
preferred driving it on the back roads. Of course I didn't have to think about
that one twice. And I wasn't shocked in the least when I saw Aunt Matilda
maneuvering the big old Cadillac out of the
garage and down the lane a few minutes later. Aunt Ted rarely lost a battle in
life.
The
mercantile turned out to be busier that afternoon than I would have predicted.
You never knew what things would be like on any given day of the week.
Sometimes you could sit there all day waiting for one person to stroll in and
buy a banana, and other times you didn't know which direction to run first. On
that afternoon, I filled Betty Ann Rumson's old Buick with gas, I handed out
the mail to what seemed like half the people on the mountain, I got a package
ready to send out for the Reverend Marcum, and I wound up helping Josie Jessup
pick out buttons for her new jacket. Then Fern Hadley stopped in for a few
baking staples, George Flax needed nails for his front porch, and Hester May
Johnson needed white paint for her fence. By the time I took my first break
since my aunts had left for the meeting, I realized it was almost 4 o'clock in
the afternoon and they would be returning soon. Although, I didn't mind being
busy at all because it helped pass the time and it got my mind off working on
my car.
I knew
things would slow down. 4 o'clock seemed to be the time of day on the mountain
when everyone started getting ready for supper. Although Aunt Ted claimed she
preferred to eat later in the evening because it was more sophisticated,
everyone else on the mountain ate supper around 5 in the afternoon. In fact, I
used to be embarrassed to admit that we ate our supper at 6 o'clock thanks to
Aunt Ted. And even that had been a compromise between Aunt Matilda and Aunt Ted.
They'd only settled on 6 o'clock because Aunt Ted had insisted on 7 o'clock and
Aunt Matilda wouldn't hear of it. Aunt Matilda claimed it was bad for the
digestion to eat supper that late, and that's how they settled on 6 o'clock. As
long as I didn't have to cook it, I didn't care what time we had supper.
I
grabbed a coke and headed outside to lean against the rail in front of the
store. It had grown warmer outside and I caught a breath of that flowery scent
that only came around that time of year. Aunt Ted used to wait for that flower
to bloom every year but I couldn't even remember the name of it. I didn't have
much concern for flowers or anything related to gardening, but I have to admit
I did like the way it smelled. It wasn't sweet and strong like most other
flowers. This particular plant smelled more like the bleach Aunt Matilda used
for the bathroom on cleaning day. The distinct scent also reminded me of the
way my own sperm smelled when I touched myself. And since I hadn't touched
myself in a few days, I leaned back against the rail and slid my hand into my
pocket.
Even
though I knew no one was around, I thought I caught a glimpse of something red rush
by out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was one of Aunt Ted's sneaky cats
and I continued touching myself. Those cats were all over the place and you
could never tell what they were up to. If Aunt Matilda hadn't been deathly
allergic to cat fur, they all would have been inside the house, too. However,
Aunt Matilda couldn't even stand within a few feet of a cat without her face
swelling up like a watermelon, so Aunt Ted kept them as outdoor pets.
A
moment later, I spotted the Cadillac down the road and I pulled my hand out of
my pants. I adjusted myself and leaned over a little so my aunts wouldn't see
how hard I was. I had just reached the edge when I'd seen their car and now I
wouldn't get a chance to finish until later that day. I didn't even realize how
late it was until I heard the mantle clock in the mercantile chime 5 times.
We
usually closed the mercantile at 5 o'clock. There wasn't much steady business
after that on Buddy's Mountain and if there was everyone knew they could just
knock on our door and we'd open the store so they could get what they needed.
While Aunt Matilda and Aunt Ted pulled the Cadillac into the garage, I went
into the store so I could put the cash in the safe and lock the doors for the
night.
By the
time I finished, I met Aunt Matilda and Aunt Ted at the front gate. "That
must have been a long meeting," I said.
Aunt
Matilda shot Aunt Ted a sour glance and said, "Well if your Aunt Ted hadn't
started in with buying a new organ for the church we would have been home a lot
sooner."
"We
need a new organ," Aunt Ted said. "Don't criticize me for being
honest. I’m only concerned with what’s best for everyone."
Aunt
Matilda glanced at me and said, "You should have seen those women argue.
They don't want a new organ; they want a new pavilion for church picnics. I
never thought I'd get out of there."
"They're
all wrong," Aunt Ted said. "Music is culture, it's refined, and that
old organ sounds horrible, and it's an eyesore. You can only have picnics in
the warmer months, but you can have organ music all year round. Honestly, you
should know these things."
Aunt
Matilda shook her head and started toward the front door. "I truly don't
care one way or the other, Ted. All I know is I have to start supper right now.
As it is we're not going to sit down until 7 o'clock tonight."
Aunt Ted
followed her and said, "There's nothing wrong with having a nice civilized
meal at 7. People in New York don't have supper until 9 or 10."
"Well
you're not in New York, Ted," Aunt Matilda said. "You're on Buddy's
Mountain and we eat supper around here at 5."
As
they continued bickering all the way to the front door, I smiled and said, "I
think I'll go down to the creek and have a swim. It's getting hotter and we had
a busy afternoon at the store. I've been thinking about that creek all
afternoon." I really wanted to go down to the creek, take off all my
clothes, and finish what I'd started in my pants a few minutes earlier.
"I'll
ring the bell when supper's ready, Joe Buddy," Aunt Matilda said. Then she
sent Aunt Ted a sharp look and continued, "Plan on 7 o'clock…if we're
lucky."
I didn't wait around to hear them quarrel a
second longer about what time we would have supper. I turned toward the barn
and jogged down a narrow path that would lead me into the woods and down to the
creek. I had needs to take care of…urges that were stronger than my willpower. I
hadn't pleasured myself in three days. The creek was about as private a place
as any on our property. I'm not sure how far away the creek was from the main
house and the store exactly, but I knew for a fact my aunts would never venture
down there, and no one else on the mountain would be bold enough to use our
private property. People had honor and a sense of respect for each other in
those days. If anyone did want to use that creek for anything, I knew they
would have asked for permission first.
Even
though it was warm out that day I knew the creek would be cold. When I reached
a large rock near the edge of the creek I stripped out of my overalls and shirt
as fast as I could. I wasn't wearing shoes that day. In the warmer months on
Buddy's Mountain most kids and younger guys went barefoot. I thought about leaving
my baggy white boxer shorts on, but then looked around fast and decided to
remove them, too.
There's
only one way to tackle an icy cold creek on a hot summer day: hold your nose
and jump right in. The instant I hit the water I felt my balls shrivel and my
penis shrink. But I also knew that wouldn't last for long because once I got
used to the temperature of the water I'd be hard like that big old rock where I'd
left my overalls and underwear.
I
waded out to a section of the creek where the water came up to my chest. Then I
crouched down a little until the water was up to my neck and reached down to
touch myself. I grew hard almost instantly. I closed my eyes and began
stroking. And then all of a sudden I heard something in the woods beyond the
big rock at the edge of the creek. When I glanced up, I saw something move and
I squared my shoulders.
I
pointed and said, "Who's there?" I didn't want to get caught doing that in the creek.
I saw
something move again, but no one replied. I thought it might be a wild animal
and was hoping it wasn't a bear. We had plenty of wild animals on Buddy's
Mountain.
I
pointed again and spoke with a deeper more authoritative tone. "Who's
there and what do you want?"
A
second or two later a young guy about my age stepped out of the woods and gaped
at me with such a forlorn, innocent expression I tilted my head to the side and
sent him a smile. "Why are you hiding in the woods like that?" I'd
never seen him on the mountain before that day. He had dark hair…almost jet
black…dark eyes, a lean body, olive skin, and stood an inch or two taller than
me. I knew for certain I'd never seen him before because he was one of the best
looking young men I'd ever seen on Buddy's Mountain, or anywhere else for that
matter.
He
frowned and said, "I'm not hiding. I'm just walking. It's so hot out today
I thought I'd cool off in the creek. I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't
think anyone was here."
He was
wearing tight blue jeans, a red plaid shirt, and the kind of cowboy boots and
cowboy hat I'd seen in the movies. I had a feeling he was that flash of red I'd
seen out of the corner of my eye earlier, but I couldn't be totally sure about
that.
"You're
not disturbing me," I said. Aside from the fact that he was good looking
and dressed like a cowboy, he had a nice even expression that suggested he'd
never harmed anyone in his life. "You can come in and cool off. I don't
mind. Just leave your clothes on the rock next to mine."
"Take
off my clothes?" he asked, staring down at the clothes I'd left on the
rock.
"Well
you can't very well jump into a creek in your clothes," I said. "That
wouldn't make no sense at all."
"Yeah,
I think I know that, wise guy. I'm just worried about how safe it is here."
"No
one else is coming. I promise. This is my property."
![Uncertainty by [Field, Ryan]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51zNy11g1lL.jpg)
![Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41kq7EeIZUL._SY346_.jpg)
