Today is my mother’s birthday. She’s been gone now for thirteen years. The world is definitely a better place since she has left and my life has really done a full one eighty since then. However, I will admit that her legacy will haunt my world for the rest of my life. I wonder all the time if it will affect others in our family though. It’s one of my deepest fears. Yes, I know, you would never think so, but I do have fears. Most of my fears revolve around my children or the fact that I am not as skilled a hunter as I believe myself to be. Surely those fears are unjustified, but they are there none-the-less.
So what does one do on the birthday of Marion Smythwick? I will do what I have done every year since her death. I will go to her grave in Manataqua Point Cemetery on Essex Street and place a flower on her grave, then I eat my lunch sitting on a stool near her headstone.
Today it’s bitterly cold with a bit of snow left over, but that somehow that seems fitting and I will not change my tradition. She is after all, my mother.
I wonder, if I should ever tell my children about the darkness in our family history. A darkness that I carry on – somewhat unwillingly.
Happy Birthday Mom, may you find the peace in death that you never had in life.
About The Steel Van Man Chronicles
The Steel Van Man is a thriller that was released in August of 2013 about a serial killer who hunts down those that abuse children. You can get the full book here. The “Chronicles” are the continuing journal of the serial killer from its point of view as it continues through its daily life.
I do have another problem, that has been plaguing me. Something else that I’ve been thinking about incessantly. Ms. Lacitor, the good detective from Northwood. Can I trust her to keep my secret hidden? I do not want to harm her, but I also can’t risk the truth getting out. So far, I believe I can trust her. I believe though, that I must keep a vigilant eye on her and ensure that our friendship remains a friendship. There is such a fine line between friend and enemy. A friend is an enemy that you can enjoy being around, in my opinion. Or, perhaps a friend is a person with the potential of being an enemy in the knowledge that they posses. 
I am sitting here, in the captains chair of my blood bath, now cleaner than the day that it rolled off the show room floor. The smell of bleach fills my nostrils accented by the smell of the clean leather seats up front and the leather dash. 
I was using the hard heel of my boots to hammer on the ice, breaking it free from the asphalt. One teacher; Mrs. Fleming, asked me what I was doing. I told her I was breaking up the ice so other kids didn’t get hurt. She smiled and said that I was a good person. She is the second person to say that to me that I can remember, the other being a detective last year.
It is that iniquity about our family history that I just don’t want to reveal to them. A part of me doubts that they would ever hear that in his loving voice, perhaps it is just me, tainted by the truth that sees the evil. For all I know, it’s not even really there in his recordings. However, it’s a chance I can’t take… at least for now.
I would like to say that the holidays have always been a nice, happy time. Full of family cheer and old relatives visiting that we haven’t seen all year long. A nice fire burning in the living room as people laugh over a glass of thick delicious eggnog or hot chocolate, savoring the delicious food and cookies scattered throughout the house. The smell of pine in the air as the tree stands proudly decorated in the corner and candy canes hang upon it. Perhaps a fat jolly adult dressed in a Santa Claus outfit walks throughout the party distributing funny, small presents to everyone from his big bag. Yes, I would like to say that.