Mama's Boy And Other Dark Tales Part 18

"'I know you're moved by my devotion, darlin', but no need to cry. And besides, it's time to meet Mama. She wouldn't be happy to see you all teary-eyed and snotty.'

"A m.u.f.fled sound came from behind the door leading to the chapel. 'Just like I promised, your mama's here waiting for you. But if you want to see her, you have to stop crying.' Buck knife in hand, I chuffed her chin and smiled.

"Victoria sniffed back her tears, still looking pale and a bit disheveled, but there was no more time to delay. With my arm around her waist, we entered the Rutt Family Chapel, naked as the day we were born. I carried my blade proudly-a gift from my daddy. I would at least have him with me in spirit on this important occasion.

"In the candlelight, the crumbling sanctuary still looked charming. With a gentle nudge, I guided my bride up the aisle toward the altar where our mothers were waiting. Mama was looking quite pretty with her hair combed up. I had done my best to apply her makeup, including the old lady red lipstick, which made me gag.

"Earlier in the day, after picking up Missus Lystner, I had placed Mama on the altar next to the cross, balancing her on the rotting stump of her neck. I used the Bible stand to keep her from rolling off onto the floor, and I tried covering the stench of her with a little of her rose oil, but Victoria would just have to get used to it.

"Next to the altar, Missus Lystner sat secured in the pastor's chair. She had become rather chatty, so I taped her mouth. The tears streaming down her bruised cheeks were evidence that she was happy to see us. I nodded to her, and Victoria sagged at the knees. I held her tight.

"'Mama,' I said, 'I would like to present my beloved, Victoria Ann Lystner. And with your blessing, I will make her my wife.' Tears welled in my eyes as I gazed at my beautiful bride. Then my worst fears came true. Mama looked down at us with a sour expression.

"'You will not marry that wh.o.r.e, Henry Rutt!'

"'But why, Mama?'

"Mama spoke without moving her twisted mouth. 'She seduced you into beddin' her. We could hear your disgusting carnal grunts through the door of the chapel. She's a filthy wh.o.r.e, and she's soiled you, Henry.' She paused, looking stern with her hazy sunken eyes. 'You know what must be done now.'

"'No, Mama! Please!'

"A chill wind blew past me and the chapel door slammed closed like thunder. I jumped at the noise, but I was too busy pleading with Mama to notice what had caused it. Wind bl.u.s.tered through the old stone hall and the candles flickered and guttered around us. Victoria slipped from my grasp as I fell to my knees before the altar."

Rebecca kept a cautious eye on Henry while he gripped the clay knife and pleaded with the sculpture on the table before him. He continued to rave: "Mama, I can't do it!" he said to the clay head. "I love her. Please, don't make me."

"'You'll do it now, Henry, you piece of worthless s.h.i.t!'

"I plunged my blade into the floor beside me, defying Mama's demand. 'I will not!' I screamed, and buried my face in my hands.

"Even as I spoke the words, I knew that I couldn't defy Mama-I simply couldn't. As I cried into my hands, I was struck from behind. Stunned, I rolled onto my back. Through the fog of pain, I could see Victoria standing over me, gripping a heavy candle stand. She stood there, frozen in place, staring down at me. I heard Missus Lystner's m.u.f.fled cries and Victoria's spell was broken. She dropped the stand beside me and ran to her mother. I struggled to sit up, shaking my head and trying to clear my vision.

"Laughter echoed off the stone walls of the chapel, and its shrill familiar sound rattled around in my aching head. Hen-ry Hen-ry, I heard a windy whisper in my ear. I know a secret I know a secret. I ignored the teasing voice.

"Freed from the tape on her mouth, Missus Lystner was screaming for Victoria to untie her hands. I looked over at the two women as my vision cleared. Something about their frantic fear excited me. I grabbed my knife and climbed to my feet, starting up the steps toward them. Victoria's back blocked their view as I came up from behind and grabbed hold of her thick black hair. She struggled, but her strength was fading. I could see dark blood flowing again from the wound in her side. Missus Lystner shrieked as I dragged her daughter toward the altar.

"The cackling in the hall grew louder, boring into my brain. Henry Henry, the voice teased. Wanna know my secret? Wanna know my secret? Something sharp raked across my back. I flinched at the pain, losing my grip on Victoria. She crawled like a wild animal toward her mother. I felt warm blood trickling down my back. Something sharp raked across my back. I flinched at the pain, losing my grip on Victoria. She crawled like a wild animal toward her mother. I felt warm blood trickling down my back.

"'b.i.t.c.h!' I screamed into the room.

"Murderer! the voice boomed back. A shadowy figure flew at my face and something hard struck me in the chest, knocking me off my feet. My black bag lay empty beside me. I scrambled to stand, then stalked toward Victoria. I could see her hands trembling as she loosened the last of her mother's bindings. the voice boomed back. A shadowy figure flew at my face and something hard struck me in the chest, knocking me off my feet. My black bag lay empty beside me. I scrambled to stand, then stalked toward Victoria. I could see her hands trembling as she loosened the last of her mother's bindings.

"'This is all your fault, you b.i.t.c.h,' I bellowed at Victoria, wielding my knife in front of her. My p.e.n.i.s was flaccid now, but I knew a million ways to make that b.i.t.c.h pay for ruining my plans.

"Henry! the cackling voice shouted. the cackling voice shouted. What about that secret? What about that secret?

"Something struck the back of my legs and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. Before I could climb to my feet, disembodied hands with st.i.tched-on fingers held Mama right in front of my face.

"She's dead, Henry! the voice chided. the voice chided. In fact, she's just a rotting head, you stupid p.r.i.c.k. But that's not the secret. In fact, she's just a rotting head, you stupid p.r.i.c.k. But that's not the secret."

Rebecca watched Henry blink and shake his head. With a blind stare, he examined the clay face, his body shuddering, tears wetting his cheeks. As if in another world, he continued to speak.

"Mama's eyes were a cloudy blue-like the eyes of a dead fish. My stomach lurched when I saw maggots slithering from the corner of her mouth. 'That's not my mama!' I screamed. Lashing out with my knife, I stabbed the hideous head, feeling the blade penetrate the rotting flesh with a thud. 'She's not dead,' I whimpered.

"'It's okay, Henry,' said the head. 'It don't hurt much.' I screamed and scrambled backward dropping my knife.

"'Mama!'

"She ain't your mama, said a voice in my ear. said a voice in my ear. She's a maggot factory, JUST ... LIKE ... ME She's a maggot factory, JUST ... LIKE ... ME' A decaying corpse flew toward me, dropping maggots on me like cl.u.s.ter bombs. It's me, Henry! Keiko. Or can't you tell BECAUSE MY BROWN 'ALMOND EYES' HAVE ROTTED OUT OF MY HEAD?" It's me, Henry! Keiko. Or can't you tell BECAUSE MY BROWN 'ALMOND EYES' HAVE ROTTED OUT OF MY HEAD?"

With a violent thrust, Henry stabbed the clay sculpture and shoved himself away from the table. Rebecca watched with caution as he smacked at the air with empty hands, his vacant eyes sweeping blindly back and forth above his head. His voice sounded strangely like a woman's as he spoke.

"Remember me, Henry? said another corpse as it flew at my face. said another corpse as it flew at my face. And me? And me? said another, followed by a string of others. Through the chaos, I saw that Victoria's mother was free and rushing for the knife on the floor. I climbed to my feet and lunged for it. She reached the knife first, but I grabbed her wrist, wrestling the knife from her grip. She lashed out and her fingernails scratched my face. She shrieked at me like a rabid animal. 'I'll kill you for hurting my baby, you psychotic b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' said another, followed by a string of others. Through the chaos, I saw that Victoria's mother was free and rushing for the knife on the floor. I climbed to my feet and lunged for it. She reached the knife first, but I grabbed her wrist, wrestling the knife from her grip. She lashed out and her fingernails scratched my face. She shrieked at me like a rabid animal. 'I'll kill you for hurting my baby, you psychotic b.a.s.t.a.r.d!'

"In the struggle to keep her from gouging out my eyes, I stabbed her over and over with my blade. She staggered and fell at my feet. Silent for a moment, she looked around frantically for her daughter. A gurgling sound escaped as she called out Victoria's name.

"Beside Missus Lystner's body, I saw Mama's head looking up at me with her maggot-filled grin. 'She shouldn't have tangled with you, huh, Henry?' said the head. 'After all, there's really only room for one woman in your life. That's right-you're a mama's boy, aren't you?'

"'Shut up, Mama!' I shouted.

"I felt dazed. My world was falling apart, my plans for the future destroyed, and it was all Victoria's fault! Enraged, I ran down the aisle of the chapel, looking for her between the pews. 'Where are you, b.i.t.c.h?' I bellowed, slicing the air with my knife. 'You'll pay for this.' I stalked up to the altar and pounded my fist. 'You'll ALL pay!'

"Wind whipped around me, and I looked back to see a line of corpses filing in through the chapel door. I squeezed my eyes shut, but when I looked again they were still there. The billowing wind blew remnants of their tattered clothing; the stink of their decay filled the hall. I pointed my buck knife at the long line of corpses.

"'f.u.c.k you! f.u.c.k all of you!' I screamed.

"I ran behind the altar and nearly stumbled over Victoria, who was huddled on the floor, her arms hugging her knees. As the corpses advanced, I raised my blade above Victoria's head and laughed hysterically into the wind.

"'Too late, b.i.t.c.hes! She's dead, too!' Just as I was ready to plunge my knife, Victoria rose up in one swift movement, revealing something hidden in her lap. In a powerful arc, she swung the heavy bra.s.s altar cross, striking me on the side of the head. Light exploded in my vision, and I fell to the ground, paralyzed. Victoria loomed over me with the cross in her hands, and in a long, slow movement she lifted it above her head and slammed it down into my face. Unable to move, I felt the sharp edges slice into my skin, crushing my bones. For a long time she continued to beat me. Exhausted, she finally stopped and stared down at me with blank eyes, tossing the bloodied cross at my feet.

"As she walked away, bone-cold fingers lifted my limp body and dumped me in the pastor's chair. Blinking my eyes was the only movement I could make, but I could feel every excruciating inch of my broken body.

"A tall male corpse in a police uniform appeared in the corner of my vision. He removed his jacket and placed it around the shoulders of the naked Victoria. He leaned down and picked up Missus Lystner's body. Walking slowly past the parade of corpses, the man escorted Victoria up the aisle as he carried her mother in his arms."

Sensing the end of her work was finally near, Rebecca sat forward, rapt. Henry gasped. He pulled his knees up under his chin. Wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, he began to rock back and forth in his seat. A strange female voice came forward as Henry's story unfolded.

"Recognize him, Henry? the cackler shouted at me. the cackler shouted at me.

"You ought to, said another. YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!

"Now, Keiko, you've gone and spoiled the secret.

"The shrieking laughter that followed ripped through my head like a hot blade. My mind spun with dizzying images, like watching a jumbled movie swirling into focus. The sounds of the chapel faded, and I was thirteen years old again in my daddy's car.

"'I saw it with my own eyes,' said my daddy. 'I came home early and the two of you were so busy f.u.c.king, you didn't hear me come in. I saw my own wife on top of you, boy! My own wife, Henry!' He slammed his fist against the dashboard.

"I flung the car door open and started running-I ran and ran until I blacked out and found myself outside my house on Oak Street. I staggered in through the kitchen door and saw my mother crying at the table.

"'Oh, Henry. Thank G.o.d you're here. Your daddy's gonna send me to prison!' She clawed at my shirt and pulled me to her.

"'You've gotta stop him!'

"I heard Daddy's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. I pulled away from Mama, watching around the corner of the kitchen door as Daddy sat down in his big chair. He was in his uniform, ready to go to the station. He laid his holster and gun on the table beside him and covered his face with his hands. Deep wrenching sobs poured out of him.

"Mama moved up behind me. Wrapping her arms around my chest, she pressed her soft body against my back. 'You've gotta stop him, Henry. He's gonna take me away,' she whispered, her hot breath against my neck. 'Then you and me won't have no more special lovin'.' Sliding her hand down from my chest to my crotch, she ma.s.saged until I was hard and aching for her, needing her. 'There ain't n.o.body ever gonna love you like your mama,' she said as she nudged me toward the living room. 'Stop him,' she hissed. 'Please, Henry...'

"I moved like a zombie, I didn't think. In a few big steps, I came up beside my daddy. I grabbed his gun from the holster, and he looked up with his face all wet from tears. His eyes flickered with confusion as I clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger, shooting my daddy in the face. With the stink of the spent bullet in my nose, I dropped the gun on the floor and ran from the house. The next morning I woke up in the baseball dugout with my father's dried blood splattered on my face and hands.

"Right then, the movie in my mind went black, and my vision returned to the Rutt Family Chapel.

"Oh, poor Henry's crying. He misses his daddy, said the cackler. said the cackler.

"No, I think he wants his mommy, another voice whined from behind me. another voice whined from behind me.

"Awwww, too bad, said Keiko. said Keiko. SHE'S DEAD! But we'll take care of you, won't we girls? SHE'S DEAD! But we'll take care of you, won't we girls?

"Loud shouts of agreement followed. One of the fresher corpses stepped in front of me. She waved the buck knife in my face, and I recognized the high school ring dangling loose around her decaying finger. Wendy! I closed my eyes. With a sharp pain in my right hand, my eyes opened wide and I saw that my wrists were tied to the arms of the chair. Wendy was pressing the knife blade against my pinkie.

"They say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. She grinned, and the corners of her mouth cracked open. She grinned, and the corners of her mouth cracked open. But I say, an eye for an eye and a finger for a finger! How about it, Henry? But I say, an eye for an eye and a finger for a finger! How about it, Henry?

"I watched in terror as she raised her hand and brought it down hard on the back of the blade. Thwack! My pinkie tumbled to the floor. Black spots filled my vision.

"Someone slapped me to bring me around, then one by one the ladies took turns amputating my fingers. Some were quick, but others just hacked away until they got to the bone, then they hacked some more. When I pa.s.sed out, they slid the knife across my throat to warn me to stay awake. I wasn't sure what was worse, death by slow amputation or a quick slit to the jugular. But I opened my eyes by instinct, forced to watch as my fingers dropped one by one to the floor. When they were gone, the girls moved on to my toes. My mind was fading, but I was jolted awake when Wendy shouted.

"I get dibs on his p.r.i.c.k!

"Someone chimed in, Henry IS a p.r.i.c.k. Henry IS a p.r.i.c.k. They all laughed and cackled and coughed their agreement. They all laughed and cackled and coughed their agreement.

"It's a pitiful little thing, said Wendy, but it'll make a nice MEMENTO. Huh, Henry? but it'll make a nice MEMENTO. Huh, Henry?

"In agony, tears streamed down my face as my last toe tumbled to the floor with a quiet plop. Boney fingers untied me and lifted me from the chair. My head was spinning as they laid my naked body on the altar.

"A small corpse, unrecognizable from decay, came forward and stepped up beside me.

"The honor is yours, Miss Lilly. You earned it, said Wendy as she ceremoniously handed over the buck knife.

"With withered bone fingers, the corpse reached up and lifted my flaccid p.e.n.i.s by the tip.

"I was your first, Henry, but this is your last!

"With a quick slice of the blade, my severed p.e.n.i.s came off in her hand."

Henry's story ended, but he continued to rock and stare with blind eyes. He was gone for good this time. Rebecca watched his rhythmic movements, confused by the mixture of feelings that surged through her. She got to her feet and paced the room with jagged tension building in her mind. The old rage welled inside her as she turned back to the silent head of clay, its twisted mouth mocking the pathetic man rocking catatonic in his chair.

Rebecca reached out, gripped the knife still embedded in the clay, and yanked it free. Feeling its slippery weight in the palm of her hand, her body trembled as she turned her hot gaze on Henry. She knew one swift slice of revenge would spill his blood, his evil draining away with his life.

She closed her eyes and envisioned a world without Henry Rutt, without the object of her life's purpose, her life's origin. She imagined him released and free from the torture of his silent purgatory, and she smiled.

"No," she whispered. Instead, she let the knife fall from her hand, turning away from Henry's scarred face, the drool hanging elastic from his chin.

Before she called the orderly to take Henry away, she slipped the remaining vials of hallucinogenic from her desk into her pocket. Opening the spray bottle, she dumped the contents into a planter by the window. As she tossed the bottle in the trash, she let out a desperate cry for the orderly.

March 1-Personal Journal Mom: It's finally over. I love you.

Morning sun blazed through the windows as Becky sat at the empty desk, the packing boxes stacked around her ready to be taken away. There was a knock at the door just as she completed her letter.

"Come in."

Rob Silvani entered the room with a huge bouquet of pink roses. "I know they're your favorite, so I hope they cheer you up."

"Thanks, Rob," she said, after inhaling their sweet scent.

"Look, Becky, I know we've had our problems, but I want you to know how sorry I am about your job. You've worked so hard. To lose it all over a knife? It's ridiculous."

"It's okay, Rob. With the disaster I made of Frank Doe's case, I don't deserve to stay."

"That wasn't your fault, Beck. Frankly, it's lucky you uncovered his violent behavior with that knife before he was transferred. I don't think even my father and his sacred budget would move him now."

"Well, I guess that's one good thing," she said. "And Rob, I'm sorry about everything. If you still want to have that dinner with me, I'm free." She gave him a weary smile.

"That's a deal."

"Oh, and could you please do something for me?"

"Of course, anything, Beck."

"It's my resignation letter. Give it to your father for me. He needs it for the files."

Rebecca turned back to her letter and signed it with a final flourish: Sincerely Yours, Rebecca Ann Lystner

Story Notes Fine Print Like a lot of my stories, the inspiration for "Fine Print" came in an unexpected image that flashed in my mind. I saw a man on wet pavement holding his critically injured wife, which became the opening scene for the story. Thanks to my sa.s.sy voyeur of a muse, this type of image acts like a window-if I look closely, a story unfolds in little clips or scenes, like a movie in my head.

"Fine Print" originally began (and failed) as a series for The Horror Library. Parts one and two were well received, with frequent inquiries about the missing conclusion. Well, life interfered and the story went cold. Although I hate to fail at anything-or worse, disappoint wonderful readers-I'm glad I let this story stew for a while.

Having the chance to revisit "Fine Print" for the collection, I've been a little self-indulgent with it in a couple of ways. I let the story wind out a bit and tried my hand at a slower pacing. When I read the work of master writers, I'm always amazed at their confidence to let a story breathe, like the s.p.a.ce right after the arc in the last movement of a symphony. They don't race relentlessly from start to finish but rather they allow the reader time to breathe and sink more deeply into the story. At the risk of boring you, I gave this pacing thing a try in "Fine Print." I fear it may have fallen into the yawn category, but a gal's got to take a chance now and again.

My second indulgence and the real fun of this story was inspired by Wendy, my online buddy from Australia. At the Shocklines message board she stated a burning desire to be "offed" in a story, so in a grand inspiration I granted her wish in the rewrite of Mama's Boy Mama's Boy. When I posted a thread called "I Killed Wendy," the floodgates opened and I discovered that a lot of folks wanted in on the action. Consequently, most of the characters in "Fine Print" are guest appearances by my beloved Shocklines friends and colleagues. I must confess that I had entirely too much fun killing them off ... in a literary sense, of course!

Gravy Pursuits "Gravy Pursuits" was born in AJ Brown's flash fiction group with a prompt from Stephen Sommerville: food. The first line of the story popped in my head almost immediately, and Leonard Hogtire was born. It was one of those wonderful stories that basically wrote itself. Next time you have a little gravy on your mashed potatoes, be sure to remember Leonard and his "Gravy Pursuits."

Beach of Dreams "Beach of Dreams" is set on a fictional Pacific island, and since I moved to the beach recently, my environment seems to be seeping into my stories.

BoD was an AJ Brown's flash fiction group inspiration from Dameion Becknell's simple prompt: monsters. The image of dead or sleeping giants on a beach popped into my mind and compelled me to write the story so I I could find out what they were. I wrote a really rough first draft (sorry Tom!) for my submission to the Borderlands Press Boot Camp, and the Hawaiian names used were in honor of Tom Monteleone (Coma), F. Paul Wilson (Paulo) and Elizabeth Monteleone (Peka). These amazing instructors and my fellow "grunts" gave me a great deal of help with a very challenging story. could find out what they were. I wrote a really rough first draft (sorry Tom!) for my submission to the Borderlands Press Boot Camp, and the Hawaiian names used were in honor of Tom Monteleone (Coma), F. Paul Wilson (Paulo) and Elizabeth Monteleone (Peka). These amazing instructors and my fellow "grunts" gave me a great deal of help with a very challenging story.

As an experiment, I let my imagination run amuck with this tale. Like I told my HWA mentor, Lisa Morton: going so deeply into that imagination-run-amuck zone felt like a loss of control, but it was also a great lesson in learning to ride the dragon without being eaten alive in the process.