Thoughts on "Magdalena."

What follows is a spoiler-filled reflection on the story "Magdalena." If you have interest in reading the story first, please ignore this post and consider getting a copy via the amazon link below:

https://www.amazon.com/Occult-Detective-Quarterly-Issue-3/dp/1979113343/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

STOP READING HERE TO AVOID SPOILERS.

I actually began work on "Magdalena," after finishing work on my forthcoming novelette "Ritual Killings," a story which features a far more self-assured and in-control Joe Bartred. Joe at the time of RK is older, he's survived the Cold War and there are allusions to an internal power struggle within the United States that Joe gained a upper hand in. The man in "Ritual Killings" is at his peak, someone who is calm, collected and powerful.

I wanted to contradict that image in "Magdalena."

In the earlier story we have a young man, 26, who is characterized foremost by uncertainty. The story opens with him being fed information by "The Man," the Satan-figure of the Bartred Universe. Joe then proceeds to violate one of his own rules and uses the information to work for the CIA, who in turn put him in contact with an elite counter-insurgency unit. Colonel Maduro is a dark reflection of Joe. Whereas Joe is a prodigy in magic, Maduro is a prodigy in brutality, inspired by the graduates of the notorious School of the Americas. For all of his knowledge of the occult, his moral compass has already forced him to make compromising decisions by the time the story opens.

This wasn't an accident.

These compromises are characteristic of the Cold War world which surrounds the characters of these early stories. Reading many, many histories of the era, one gets the image of foreign-funded brutality. From United States funding of military regimes across Latin America, Soviet sponsorship of dictatorships in Africa, and paramilitary and guerrilla units launching coordinated campaigns of terror against peasants, it is clear there was no one "good" side. As much as revisionists of all ideological persuasions have tried to paint the conflict differently, the portrait has been made in blood.

And this leads in to the antagonist of the story.

"Magdalena" was inspired by Che Guevara and Mao Zedong, Che's personalism and charisma coupled with Mao's unapologetic ruthlessness. She, like many revolutionaries, believes that the only thing separating mankind from paradise is its rulers. Only in this the rulers are not the bourgeoisie, nor are they secret cabals of businessmen and politicians. The rulers in the Bartred Universe are deities, demons and other paranormal entities. Magdalena wants to unbind mankind, and to do this she is willing to sacrifice millions of lives.

For her, the ends certainly justify the means. She has been infiltrating covenants and killing demons for centuries, she's slaughtered more than her share of lesser gods too.

For her, the approach was inspired by "Mr. Kurtz" of the Heart of Darkness. I wanted to conjure up dread before the reader ever met the character. And yes, she is a beautiful woman but she is also the scariest thing Joe has ever seen, by far.

And if there is anyone who enjoyed the character, I have good news: She's not done.

So there story introduces Joe, and offers to first insight into his world. Paranormal forces are more active than ever, perhaps due to the detonation of the atomic bomb. Joe, good and idealistic, will make many compromising decisions in his life. And while these decisions may be the "good" thing or even the "better" thing they may not be the "right" thing.

So You Sold Your First Story

Wow, y'all. The times sure change. A little over a year ago I went from having no publications to four. From four to twelve. And now we are honing in on the big three-o. Soon I'll start tepidly searching for publishers for a collection, along with a few other projects.

On my social media I'm fond of making jokes at my own expense, but I thought that a retrospective of the year may actually offer some useful insights for new writers. To be specific: the following is not for more seasoned writers than myself, and it certainly isn't for everyone. There is no one path to writing, just as there is no one metric for success. But, framing this as a message to a slightly younger self, some may find it useful or entertaining.

So with that, please enjoy:

Dear Sam,

So you sold your first story? Congratulations! This wasn't easy, and I know the temptation to give up was pretty big. Take a moment to be proud, open that bottle of rum you bought five years ago. Have some each time you sell another story (editor's note: the rum is gone!). Feel that rush? Yeah? You want to keep it going?

Well, maybe slow down a little. Here's a few pieces of advice old Sam has for you as you continue on:

(1) Not everything you write is good. For a moment your metrics are going to be all over the place. Having sold one (or more) stories, you may go through a brief period where you aren't sure how to assess your own work anymore. My advice is to take a step back and be as critical as you were before you were published. Let stories sit for a week before sending them off. And furthermore...

(2) Catch up. You're going to feel like you are in the deep end now. And you are. Don't panic. Everyone is rooting for you, and people don't just hand out compliments for fun out here. That said, another important component of being aware of the quality of your work is to read your peers. Yes, I know, it's weird that these very good writers are your peers. But you've got to read them, you need to assess it against what you do and have some sort of bearing as to what is going to be expected of publishable work. Besides, a lot of this stuff is just astounding.

(3)Be friendly. This is the most important piece of advice no one is going to tell you, but it should also be a given. Unless you are just the greatest writer of all time (see point 4), you need to be friendly. It's easier than the alternative, and people are more inclined to talk with you if you're kind.

(4) Be humble (sit down). It's a fine-line between being self-deprecating, but don't buy into hype you don't have. Always be genuine and thankful when someone says something about your work, even if it is critical. Don't expect to be accepted to every publication you send to and certainly don't make a stink about being rejected. You are going to be rejected SO MUCH! STILL! A rejection is not a closed door, and the way you behave in the aftermath can make a world of difference to editors who are rejecting your work on a close call. That said, be proud of your work and let your readers know that you have confidence in your work. Don't give the impression that you're work is lacking, but don't sit on any laurels either. Treat every story you write like it's going to be the last one.

(5) Don't be afraid to ask. There is a good way to query and there is a bad way to query. Be cognizant that editors have day jobs just like you do, and editing often takes more work and pays less than writing. These are people at the other end of your emails, treat them as such. But if you do this, be ready to get a "no." That's fine. Don't take it personally.

(6) Do something with dogs. Everyone loves dogs. Go figure.

Keep it up, young Sam. From old Sam to you, you're doing well.

-Old Sam

What's next?

This week I've had some major, unexpected acceptances and publications. After being blown away by Martian Migraine's A Breath From the Sky I was elated to learn that my story "Volver Al Monte" was going to be part of Chthonic: Weird Tales of the Inner Earth. Editor Scott Jones has developed a reputation for his small press, and I am quite excited to get my contributor copy so I can read the stories in them. You'll see tales from John Linwood Grant, Gemma Files, Nadia Bulkin, Aaron Beeson and...Ramsey Campbell. Still not quite sure what to make of sharing a table of contents with Ramsey Campbell.

That's weird.

As of now I'm leafing my way through Ride The Star Winds: Cthulhu, Space Opera, and the Cosmic Weird from the ever-expanding and enterprising Broken Eye Press. Again, some top quality writers: I am currently enjoying Lucy A. Snyder's story, but also enjoyed those from Nadia Bulkin and Premee Mohamad. Each story comes with an illustration, and the hardcover is a rather beautiful experience.

Speaking of reading, I'll announce for the first time here that I've taken on a reviewer position, but I can't say where yet. I finished all of my reviews before the academic year started, but during that time I read some very quality works that I am looking forward to sharing with you. Look forward to these reviews rolling out towards the end of the month or the beginning of the next. I'll say more when I can.

My writing is slowing down, though I'm trying to write every Sunday. The current story I am finishing is the beginning of a series of weird western tales told in a fantasy setting inspired by the post-civil war United States. Several nations are active on the continent, the United Federation in the east, Yijin and the Coastal Colonies to the west. In the south is Anahuac, a mysterious and quickly rising power. In the center of all of it are the wildlands, ruled by tribal federations of skin walkers, ogres and oni, demons and spirits. I want to flex some new muscles, and the first story will introduce John Armitage and Freedomtown, both of which will be foundational characters for the plan I have in my head.

The other big project concerns my occult detective, Joe Bartred. Joe will debut soon, but I like to plan ahead. Regrettably, talking about Joe in this sense cues readers in to the spoiler that Joe will not die...any time soon. Sorry. In this sense, he is not what John Linwood Grant refers to as a "doomed meddler," but there are fates worse than death. And Joe, for all his power and all his knowledge, is only a man. I would like to not only tell more Joe stories, but take a look at his supporting cast too. Characters I hope you will learn more about early next year.

And of course, the ever-expanding world of Borkchito. Borkie has surprised me in how popular he is, and I will say this of the next story: Yves has surprised and outpaced me at every turn. My favorite characters are being introduced. Boss Puggeaux has been alluded to, a certain mustached priest (my favorite character) made his debut. And this is only the beginning.

That's all for now, check out links below for Ride the Star Winds and Breath From the Sky.

-Edwards

https://www.amazon.com/Ride-Star-Wind-Cthulhu-Cosmic-ebook/dp/B0747W4ZC9/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507391383&sr=8-1&keywords=ride+the+star+winds

https://www.amazon.com/Breath-Sky-Unusual-Stories-Possession-ebook/dp/B074N3H4SF/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1507391414&sr=1-1&keywords=breath+from+the+sky

Ah. And I would be remiss to not discuss Test Patterns forthcoming from Planet X Publications. The work is one of love, and has quite the spectacular line up. Editors Duane Pesice and Michael Adams have a murderer's row of contributors ranging from Joe S. Pulver (!!!), Matthew Bartlett, Peter Rawlik and Cody Goodfellow to a few newer writers such as Rob F. Martin and Russell Smeaton. My friend Jill Hand is in it as well, so this is going to be quite the outstanding collection. You can reserve your copy in the link below.

https://www.gofundme.com/39qw5ps

Bartred Memo no. 0021

The following is a brief teaser detailing an occult detective and the world he lives in.

Mr. Director,

            It has come to my attention that certain agents have suggested that Joe Bartred is a danger due to perceived “leftist tendencies.”

            This is a mistaken belief, and any attempt to act on it would be even more so.

            Mr. Bartred’s reluctance to aid the United States government stems more from family loyalty than political leanings. The Bartreds have taught their children, rightfully so if I may be bold, that the expenditure of human life should always come with great cost or come in most usual circumstances. Even so, Mr. Bartred has a blinder loyalty to noble ideas of “keeping the peace” than his father did or his mother does.

            All of this said, Mr. Director, Joe Bartred is your best chance.

            Recruiting his mother or older brother would be a nonstarter, if not counterproductive.

            I can only do so much of what you are asking me to do, and every day [REDACTED] is funded by the Soviets is a more dangerous one. You cannot afford to alienate him.

            This is my input, take it for what you will.

            Sincere well-wishes,

            J. K. 

Where you can find me

First of all, a sincere thanks for reading this. While I have an amazon author page (there will be a slew of links at the end of this post), several works cannot be found on amazon quite yet. What follows are a list of works that have been published or that are forthcoming that I can announce. There are several things that I cannot announce, and when I am able to I will do so. For now, this is what I can offer:

Published:

1. "Movie Magic" first published in Ravenwood Quarterly #1. 2016
2. "Skins" first published in Ravenwood Quarterly #2, 2016
3. "The Cthulhu Candidate" first published in Ravenwood #2, 2016
4. "Carcosa" (poem) first published in Ravenwood #2, 2016
5. "I've Been Here a Very Long Time," first published in Turn to Ash vol. 0, 2016
6. "When the Trees Sing," first published in Turn to Ash vol. 0, 2016
7. "And the Woman Loved Her Cats," first published in The Third Spectral Book of Horror Stories, 2016
8. "The Darkness Makes Us Whole," first published in Miskatonic Dreams, 2016
9. "The Case of Yuri Zaystev," first published in Onyx Neon Shorts Book of Horror Stories, 2016
10. "Krampus County," first published in New Zenith Magazine, 2016
11. "The Owl" (poem) first published in Weirdbook #33, 2016
12. "The Oldest Story" first published in Weirdbook #36, 2017
13. "What the Dog Tells Me" first published in Horror Tree, 2017
14. "Allister's Garden" first published in Unleashed: Monsters vs. Zombies II, 2017
15. "The Witch Queen," (poem) first published in Weirdbook Annual #1
16. "The Death of An Author," first published in Mythic Magazine #4

Forthcoming:

1. "Meeting the Matchmaker," to be published in Ravenwood Quarterly #3, 2017
2. "Cabras," to be published in Ravenwood Quarterly #4, 2017
3. "A Summoning" (prose poem) to be published in Ravenwood Halloween Special, 2017
4. "A Walk Through the Thinned Veil" (poem) to be Published in Ravenwood Halloween Special, 2017
5. "Magdalena," to be published in Occult Detective #3, 2017
6. "The Alienation of the Self: Marx, Polanyi and Ligotti," to be published in Vastarian: A Literary Journal #1, 2017 or early 2018
7. "The War Witch," (poem) to be published in Lycan Valley Poetry With a Side of Brews, 2017
8. "Golden Girl," to be published in Test Patterns, 2017
9. "Volver al Monte," to be published in "Chthonic: Weird Tales of the Inner Earth"
10. Classified Novelette, to be published 2017
11. Classified Short Story, to be published 2018

Find all or most of that in the following links:
http://electricpentaclepress.bigcartel.com/

http://www.mythicmag.com/p/issues.html

https://www.gofundme.com/39qw5ps

https://www.amazon.com/S.-L.-Edwards/e/B01M34MZOT

What you get: Weirdbook #33

Weirdbook #33-What you get

            Quite frankly, this is overdue.

            I’ve dreamed (not ‘wanted,’ dreamed) of being a part of Weirdbook since I read the “first” issue volume #31. Since then I’ve gotten every issue, and have been a strong advocate for the magazine. Weirdbook is something that has stepped out of a time capsule, straight out of the heyday of pulps and into the modern era. It’s a grab-bag of themes and subjects, ranging from horror to historical fantasy to sword and sorcery. If Clark Ashton Smith were still around, he’d be contributing to this magazine.

            Being a part of issue #33 was more than a little overwhelming, and I can happily say that I will also be in another coming issue (which one and in what way, I cannot say, but the contract is signed).

            One of my favorite stories in this volume was also one of the quietest, “Teatime with Mrs. Monster” by James Aquilone. It’s the sort of story that is both simple and profound enough to stick with you in fleeting nightmares.  But there are also quite a few occult detectives in this one, ranging from the unreliable protagonist of “The River that Flows to Nowhere,” by John R. Fultz to “Trance Junkie’s” washed-up junkie detective courtesy of Brun Lombardi to Adrian Cole’s ever-popular Nick Nightmare. C. M. Muller’s “Diary of an Illness” tells the story of a particularly unique, particularly horrifying apocalypse as well. I could go on about these stories, but am running low on time. Suffice to say fans of sword and sorcery will not be disappointed.

            Now, the poetry:

            I loved Donald W. Schank’s prose poem “A Cure for Unrequited Love,” which reads like a cautionary fable. To say that I really enjoyed the contributions of Ashley Dioses and K. A. Opperman would be redundant. Of course I enjoyed those two, I always do. But let’s talk about Frederick J. Mayer, whose love of Clark Ashton Smith is a reverence that I have not seen paralleled in anyone else. This is someone who channels the power that Smith has more than any other writer I can recall, the power to shock-and-awe with language. The poetry is at once silken and steel, a pointed dagger through an ornate curtain.

            My own meagre contribution came to me in my undergraduate career, on a night that I did not want to write a paper. “The Owl” has been read publicly in a few coffee shops, workshopped with a few friends and been a passion project of mine for about five years. It was wonderful to finally have it emerge on the pages of Weirdbook and I can only hope that it is enjoyed by its readers.

-S. L. 

What You Get: Occult Detective Quarterly Issue 1

What You Get: Occult Detective Quarterly #1

Background: As with a few successful publications (Skelos, Ravenwood Quarterly), Occult Detective Quarterly began as a kickstarter project. It is published through Electric Pentacle Press, a project headed by Travis Neisler which encompasses Ravenwood Quarterly, Occult Detective Quarterly and the publication of chapbooks and novels. It has given the much beloved subgenre a home, and serves as an exploration of the limits regarding the figure of the Occult Detective.

About the editorial team: I first became aware of Sam Gafford and John Linwood Grant through Ravenwood. Sam Gafford’s story “Ink Spots” (Ravenwood 1) is an absolute monster of a haunted house story and John Linwood Grant’s “Preacher’s Tale” captures the tragedy and lyricism of Victorian-era horror. It is evident through their intro that both editors are quite devoted to their new venture.

“Got My Mojo Working” by David T. Wilbanks and William Meikle Gus is a detective. Gus has been affected by the occult, endowing him with considerable Mojo. Gus is a gorilla. This story was not only fun, but written well enough to wink and nod at all of the tropes while still being distinctly different from them. Gus is a breakout character, and I hope to see more of him.

“When Soft Voices Die” by Amanda DeWees Sybil is a struggling actress living in New York. She is young, and she is engaged and is a medium. A very ‘classic’ feeling tale with a very original character, distinctly different from Carnacki and Silence. Sybil is headstrong, empathetic and very much a force unto her own.

“Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You” by Adrian Cole I’ve encountered Nick Nightmare in issues of Weirdbook previously, and it was honestly kind of strange seeing him in another publication. Adrian Cole’s world is one of urban fantasy, horror and parallel dimensions. In this story, Nick’s past comes back when a collector of strange things comes to him. The murder of a federal agent soon follows. The climax of this story is hard to forget and demonstrates the incredible imagination and vision of the writer.

“Orbis Tertius” by Josh Reynolds I know St. Cyprian is the queen’s detective in this one, but I cannot get over Ebe Gallowglass. She is a sardonic, short-tempered and trigger-happy Watson to St. Cyprian’s Holmes. The character steals the show, though the weird and horrifying mystery is enough to sell the story in of itself.

“MonoChrome” by T. E. Grau T. E. Grau’s Los Angeles is that of the insider. It is a segmented city, sewn together with streets and shops bursting with life. It encompasses an expansive and even monstrous geography. The city is only horrifying when it is quiet…and the slow creep of the horror over Los Angeles pays off in an ending which speaks to the dark history of the city itself.

“Baron of Bourbon Street” by Aaron Vlek This is how I would imagine Baron Samedi acting. Show-boating, theatrical, vengeful and somewhat petty despite the fact that he is our protagonist. The mortal protagonist, Alfonse de Cartier, is a relatable in his confusion and frustration, and knows enough about the city of New Orleans to capture its familiar and soulful spirit.

“The Adventure of the Black Dog” by Oscar Dowson Now this is what I often think of when I think of the Occult Detective.  A man of mystery, known through reputation more than anything else. A weird, unexplainable occurrence. The nods to Holmes and Watson are appreciated in this story, and the ending sets up future stories. I am curious to see where these characters go from here.

“OCCULT LEGION: ‘THE NEST’”  by William Meikle The first chapter of a serialized story. The atmosphere in this story is one of a cosmic, Lovecraftian dread, peppered with a haunted house and Scottish fog. I cannot quite tell what is going on yet, and will hold off on commenting further until I see future entries. 

Relevant Links:

Ravenwood #1: http://electricpentaclepress.bigcartel.com/product/issue-one

Ravenwood #2: http://electricpentaclepress.bigcartel.com/product/preorder-ravenwood-2

Occult Detective Quarterly #1: http://electricpentaclepress.bigcartel.com/product/pre-order-occult-detectives-quarterly

Occult Detective Quarterly Submission Guidelines: http://greydogtales.com/blog/occult-detective-quarterly/odq/

A Letter to Katie

A Letter to Katie 

By S. L. Edwards

Dear Katie,

            The question that you’ll be asking the most is, “Why?”

            I am ashamed to say that I don’t, and probably never will, have an answer good enough for you.

            What I do know is that all started with your mother.

            You’ll never be able to truly understand how much I loved her. The way we grew up, I was both her brother and her father. Neither of us ever talked about your grandparents, and it because we never knew them ourselves. They were killed when I was 11 and your mother was 4. My father, Raul, was big, strong and (I believe) a good man. You’ve probably only ever seen one picture of your grandmother, Juana, who died when she was 32.

            I remember her face, right before she hid us.

            She was smiling, though it was obviously hard for her to do so. Her smile was something weak and strong all at once, if you can imagine that; A resolute façade ruined by weeping, wide eyes. She folded a photo of all of us into my hands, stroked your mother’s hair and put a finger to her lips.

            “Shh,” was the last thing she said to us.

            Not “I love you,” though we knew she did. Not, “take care of each other,” though she knew we would.

            Only a simple demand that kept us alive.

            I don’t know where the soldiers took them, where they executed them. But I remember the yelling, the screaming and weeping. They never looked for us, those soldiers. I don’t believe that they knew what or who they were looking for, only that they were ordered to kill anyone who put up a fight. Anyone with certain books on their shelves and anyone who had ever known names on a secret, fatal list.

            But our parents never came back.

            Gabbi and I slept under the floor for two days, drinking the rainwater that seeped through.

            I try not to remember what came next. I don’t like talking about it. Sometimes, it is good to leave things behind, especially when there is so little to learn from them.

            What can I tell you, that it is easy for an 11-year-old to grow up overnight? It is. Your mother and I dodged bullets, we slept in trees, we buried ourselves in the dirt next to dead bodies in the hopes that soldiers would look us over. Jaws were open wide on both sides, the rebels and the government alike had their arms aimed at any and everyone in the countryside. We heard that the cities were safe, but then there were stories about war-orphans who were picked up by black cars and never seen again. Stories about boys who were forcefully tattooed by carnivorous alleys, and little girls who became at once mature and broken in the matter of hours.

            So, we rode the train into this country.

            Your mother never did anything wrong in coming here. But I won’t lie to you. Not now, and not ever.

            To keep your mother safe, I did many, many things that a man should never do.

I stole, I lied.

I killed, Katie.

Do not ever let anyone tell you that this country is not great. We found an aunt of ours, Tia Carla, and she did her best to raise children whose hearts were far too old. Tio Adolfo died before we came here, a car accident with a drunk driver.

Over time, Gabbi became a girl again. She was young enough to adjust from what she had witnessed. She brushed the hairs of dolls, she made her room pink, she giggled and laughed when she teased her “too serious” brother.

I couldn’t follow her.

Tia Carla did her best by me, but I had already become someone else. I struggled in school when I was there, not understanding how I would ever need Math or Science. But I buried myself in learning English, in understanding the literature and history of the country that I so desperately wanted to be a part of. I forsook my mother tongue, divorced myself from my history entirely.

This broke Tia Carla’s heart, but I believe she understood.

I never wanted to go to college, to be anyone other than the man I was. But Gabbi, your mother, she had dreams. God, what beautiful dreams…to go to college, to so thoroughly understand all the charts and math that I found so useless, that she would command them.

“They’re not useless!” She told me once, angrily.

“You could be so much more if you understood them, Javi!”

She made me smile. No girlfriend, no wife ever made me smile the way my strong little sister did. And I believed that she would be worth more than both of us, worth every moment of horror that we endured.

Valedictorian. Medical School.

It was going well. And, if I had to wash dishes or fix cars so that Gabbi could afford a private tutor and SAT classes, well so be it. There was nothing that she couldn’t do, that I wouldn’t do.

Then she met your father, Rodger.

Growing up as I did, you develop a series of senses which normal people do not have. One of those is a keen, almost supernatural awareness of a person when you first see or meet them. You can tell from their walk, from the angles of their smile. You know immediately who is a threat, who is a friend.

You might feel that I denied you the right to know your father, just as I was denied the right to know mine.

You would be perfectly right to feel that way.

I feel differently.

I do not expect you to forgive me. I do not need you to forgive me.

Katie, I know the following words will hurt. And I will not forgive myself for writing them but you must know:

Your father was evil.

He was not the sort of evil that I was used to, the kind that carefully and ruthlessly targets and destroys. No, your father was a chaotic, careless evil; a black hole with tendrils that ensnared and swallowed anyone who let it get close enough.

But he was quite an actor. He had a very nice smile, a soothing voice, a certain poetry and cadence that melted too-trusting hearts and won him many false friends who he would exploit along the way. Rodger was not stupid, by no means was an idiot, though sometimes he wanted people to believe he was. And he was afraid of those who saw him for what he was.

So, he told your mother lies, lies about both myself and Tia Carla. And she was young. I don’t blame her for believing him. At that age, it is so easy to believe that your family does not care about you, especially when they so adamantly oppose someone who you love. It is easy, when you feel love, which is so intoxicating and wonderful, to follow it.

And so, your father took her from us.

And it was a long time before she looked back.

I’ve loved too, Katie. I’ve been married twice now, and I loved both of my wives with all my heart. Allie left me because I was morose and poisonous, and I left Deb because she cheated on me, probably for the same reason that Allie left me.

I am telling you this because as horrible as things may get, I never want you to blame your mother. You too, will grow to be wild and foolish. You too, will make mistakes. We all do.

If you must hate anyone in all of this, I pray that it will be me.

Never, for even an instant, should you blame your mother, who loved you more than you will ever know.

She had you after she had been with Rodger for three years. Rodger had indulged in every vice you could imagine, because he had your mother as a tether and pillar of stability. Drugs, prostitution, nothing was too low for Rodger.

When I first saw your mother with a bruise, I did not give her the chance to answer a question. I did not ask her one.

A door comes off its hinges with one strong kick to the right place. A man who is high is not fast enough to dodge a fist. If his mouth is swollen and bleeding, he will not be able to ask why.

I let him know that if he ever hurt my sister again, I would kill him.

I had done it before, I told him.

This scared him enough, I believe, for two years.

And you were born.

God, your mother loved you so much. I loved you so much. So did Tia Carla.

Your mother wanted a baby to do good in this life, to make someone better than herself. Someone who she could to right by.

Rodger wanted leverage.

You are too young to remember, the way he used you to extract money from us. He would tell us things you needed, supposedly needed, and he would use the money to find his high. He would threaten to stop me from seeing you, to stop Tia Carla from seeing you.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

And…Katie, it broke your mother’s heart how he began to treat you both. He ignored the two of you, leaving you with a dirty diaper for hours while your mother was at work. He would scream at you when you cried, if you can imagine something so horrible.

Gabbi would tell me all of this, crying in the dead of night over the simple cup of tea that I made her.

And I would tell her, beg her to take you and run. To come to us, to live with us.

But she couldn’t. And I knew that.

So, she began seeking her highs with Rodger.

Maybe she was too sad. I wonder if I had stolen you, if I had forced her to leave him, would she still be alive? If I had acted sooner…would you have ever known the incredible woman your mother became?

You’ll hate me for that, too.

Her death was hard on me. Hard on Tia Carla.

We tried to get custody of you, but there are so many laws and all of them are slow moving. And all the while, Rodger kept threatening to neglect you and take him wherever he went.

He had forgotten to be afraid of me.

And I used that, the way he used so many people.

I hope that, one day, you’ll visit me in jail. I hope that you’ll put your little hand up to the glass, and I’ll put mine there with it. I hope that it will be just like when your mother held my hand, when she smiled and told me that I was far too serious.

If you don’t, maybe you’ll see me when I get out, be it in 10 or even 30 years. I have daydreams of you having a family of your own, of Tia Carla having raised a woman who will be worth every ounce of pain that came into making you. I pray for a woman created by destiny and nurtured by incredible love.  

And you may not believe it, but I love you.

I don’t know when, or even if, Tia Carla will show you this letter. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t know my name, if Tia Carla has told you a loving fiction to shield you from the truth. But I want you to be able to know, if you so choose.

I’ve already denied you so much, it’s not fair that I deny you anymore.

Please be good, be kind to others, and be better than we ever were.

Forever with Love,
           

Uncle Javi.