The Long Hard Road Out of Hell

hiding them from Mother.
    â€œTeddy, why didn’t you take out the garbage?”
    â€œHuh?” He was confused by her displaced question, her banal motherliness.
    â€œOh, never mind.” She poked her cane at Angie with simple curiosity. “Put on your drawers.”
    â€œMother, it wasn’t my fault, she killed–” He quickly shut his mouth–Mother couldn’t know about Peg. She hated Peg.
    â€œShe’s dead, huh?”
    â€œMother, I didn’t mean to kill her.” That was a lie.
    â€œYou were watching her again,” Mother beamed.
    â€œNo Mother. I never ever watched her. I promise I didn’t.”
    â€œYou did. She tells me.”
    â€œNo Mother.” That bitch, she had told. He wished he could kill her again; she suffered too little.
    â€œI told you not to do the nasty. And now I catch you doin’ it on your sister. What can I do with such a disrespectful boy?
    Her rhetoric frightened him. What if she took away the television? What if she made him take those pills again—what had she called them? Saltpeter? He could fix that though. He was good at hiding them under his tongue and then throwing them out his window.
    Although Teddy was taller than Mother, she overwhelmed him with her presence. She stepped over Angie and raised her cane to his head; she was varicose in her elegance.
    â€œBad boys have to be punished. That’s how we keep a family together.”
    Sharply, and with surprising force, she bludgeoned his head repeatedly until he collapsed, limp and denigrated on the carpet.
    When Teddy awoke, he winced at the tugging pain at his eyelids—they wouldn’t open no matter how hard he strained. Atop his naked groin he felt the cold security of Peg, and beneath him the gritty soil. Damn Mother and her sewing. He touched his eyelids and knew he would find the tiny knotted stitches binding his vision.
    â€œTeddy,” she called from above. “You’ve been a bad boy. You won’t be looking at Angie anymore though, I’ve seen to that. Just like your father you are. I had to teach him a lesson too.”
    He heard an earthy scrape from above and pleaded for forgiveness. “Mother please, I didn’t mean to look. I’m sorry. Please, Mother–”
    A scoop of dirt landed on his face, covering his nose and mouth; his arms were squeezed too tightly into the grave to protest.
    â€œGot to keep the family together.”
    Mother continued to fill in the grave as Teddy struggled to free himself; he wanted to spit but his mouthful of dirt prohibited any such action. Above, Mother babbled about discipline and Teddy’s punishment led to suffocation as his eyes seeped tears of blood.

    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    March 15, 1988            
    Night Terrors Magazine
    1007 Union Street         
    Schenectady, NY 12308
    Brian Warner
    3450 Banks Rd. #207
    Margate, FL 33063
    Hey Brian,
    Thank you for “All in the Family.” I like the idea, but I prefer something a little more involved. However, you write very well and very convincingly, and I’m anxious to see another submission from you. But, Brian, I would first urge you to acquaint yourself with the unique type of fiction we publish by purchasing a subscription to NT . I can send you the next four issues for only $12 for your first year and $16 each year afterwards. I hope you’ll take advantage of this savings—more than 35% off the cover price—and join our bloody little gang. If you’re serious about selling your work to NT —payment is two and a half cents per word—then getting to know the mag is your key to a quick sale.
    Till then,                      
    John Glazer                  
    Editor                          

    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    March 28, 1988         
    Brian Warner            
    3450 Banks Rd. #207
    Margate, FL 33063    
    John Glazer, Editor
    Night Terrors Magazine
    1007 Union Street
    Schenectady, NY 12308
    Dear John Glazer,
    Thank you very much for your encouraging response. Enclosed is a check for four issues of NT . I am eager to receive my first copies. In the meantime, I am sending you three new poems I