The Lesson Of The Bees

By David Skovron

It’s 1962 and Teddy Lapinski, a twelve year old boy in Erie, PA, is being tormented by his parents. His mother is a devout Roman Catholic and his father, an abusive alcoholic. His older brother, Danny, is his protector and best friend.
Strange and frightening things are beginning to happen in Teddy’s home. It starts with thumping noises from the “sick room,” strange candlelight in the basement, voices speaking from dark corners. Something terrifying inhabits Teddy’s home.
When the family is faced with a heartbreaking event, Teddy’s world is catapulted into horrifying danger. Teddy is not prepared for what evil inhabits his home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Skovron
• Release date: Jan 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370430499

David Skovron

David Skovron, owned his own production company, DSA, located in Manhattan, for over twenty years, producing fashion shows at the Metropolitan Museum and launching products globally. Retiring at the age of 50, he focused on something he would always be doing during breaks backstage...writing. His first outing was collaborating with New York Times bestselling author and filmmaker, Clive Barker. David adapted Clive’s West End production of The Secret Life of Cartoons. His most recent play, Shrink Wrapped, has been chosen to open the new Pittsburgh Playhouse in 2019, with the intention of moving to Broadway. In between these two theatrical pieces, David wrote his first novel, The Lesson Of The Bees.

Book preview

1

Thursday, Nov. 5, 1964

My name is Teddy Lapinski and I’m twelve years old. I am writing in a journal that was given to me by my 7th grade teacher Sister Ann. She says I can read at a high school level and should write down all the things that happen to me. I love to read and I really like to draw, but it’s writing stories that I like best .

I don’t know if I’m doing this right or not. I’ve never written anything down before in a blank book. When my father saw this red book Sister Ann gave me, he said only girls write in a diary. I told him it was a journal and it said so on the cover. My Journal. He called me a sissy. He does that a lot. Girls’ diaries have locks on them. My Journal doesn’t. A boy can write in a journal. This isn’t a diary.

Sister says that I show real talent. Wow. I never had anyone say such nice things about me. She said I should write down anything that came to my mind. She said I can write about what happened during the day, stories I make up, whatever I feel like sharing. She said to write in a way that if someone in the future found my journal they could learn who I was and what was happening when I was writing and to describe everything. So I’m going to. And she also said I don’t have to show anybody what I’ve written. I like that. This is just mine.

I also want this to be written correctly, so I have a dictionary next to me. I’m an awful speller. And I’m going to write in ink, not pencil. Kids write in pencil. I’m going to be a writer, so it’s all in ink.

I guess the most important thing I should write down today is that my older brother Danny got very sick. He’s sixteen. Danny is the best brother another brother could ever have. We share the same room and have a blast. I’ve heard from my friends that older brothers can be a real pain but not Danny. He’s my best friend. Anyway, he’s been having a lot of headaches and he hasn’t been able to play on his sports teams in high school. Baseball, golf, basketball. Father Donnelly says he’s the best athlete on the sophomore team he’s seen in years.

His headaches started about six months ago. His eyesight started to change and he had to get glasses. Now his glasses are really thick. The doctor thought new glasses would take care of everything, but they haven’t. My father is really proud of Danny. He loves him. When Danny was in grade school he won all the awards in sports. They went to every father-son banquet at St. Francis of Assisi. He’s got so many trophies in our room. It’s really neat.

My mom is really worried. She prays a lot. I mean we’re a very religious family. My mom is Irish and my father is Polish. My Uncle Paul is a Monsignor at the Vatican. At the Vatican! That is so neat! He’s my mom’s brother. My father says he’s a pompous ass and a stupid mick. I think that’s disrespectful. Anyway, my mom is starting to act a little funny around my brother. She sometimes just stares at him in a weird way.

Danny is going to see someone called a specialist on Monday. Somebody who knows a lot about your brain. I know he’ll be okay.

Anyway, I think that’s about it. I think I’m going to like writing in my journal.

2

Monday, Nov. 9, 1964

Mom, my father and Danny are at the hospital to meet with the new doctor. My father couldn’t get off of work in the afternoon so they had to make an appointment at 6:00 o’clock. We ate our dinner really fast at 5:00, then they left. I’m alone in our house. I really like our house but I like it better during the day. I’m old enough not to be scared but sometimes it gets spooky. Especially at night. It’s not a big house but it’s old. My great-great-grandparents lived here when they came over from Ireland a long time ago. I think that’s cool. My great-great-grandmother and grandfather died in an automobile accident. My grandmother didn’t like to talk about it when she was alive, so I don’t know much about it. My grandfather died when I was one, so I don’t remember him at all. Both my grandma and grandpa died in this house. My mom tells us the story that when grandpa died they had his casket in the living room and she had to sit with him all night. I could never do that. She said that it was tradition for the daughter to sit vigil at night with a single candle burning. I would have been scared out of my mind. She did it for three nights .

Anyway, off of our dining room is a bedroom we call the sick room. Since we only have one bathroom and it’s off of the kitchen, whenever we’re sick we stay downstairs in the sick room because it’s closer to it. My grandpa and grandma died in that room. In the same bed that’s in there. I don’t like to stay down there when I’m sick, so my mom puts a white tin bucket next to my bed, between my brother and me, in case I’m going to vomit. My father says I should stay downstairs and not bother the whole family when I’m sick. But I can’t stay down there. He gets really angry if I throw up because he has to take it downstairs in the middle of the night.

I stayed down there one time when I had the mumps last year. I don’t like to think about that time.

School was okay today. My best friend Joey and I had a blast during recess. His mom lets him buy 45’s all the time. He told me he has the new Beatles single Eight Days A Week and I’m going to go over to his house this weekend to listen to it. I’ve heard the song on the transistor radio my brother and I share in our room. It’s even got an earphone you stick in your ear and no one can tell you’re listening to the radio. My mom says the Beatles are immoral because they don’t cut their hair and girls scream when they see them. I think they’re tuff. Joey’s afraid he’s going to be left back a grade because he’s failing in math and reading. I hope not.

I hate when this happens. It’s about 7:30 and I’m writing at the dining room table facing the sick room. I just heard a sound from in there. A thump. I’m not going in the room. I’m going to watch TV.

3

Tuesday, Nov. 10, 1964

Danny has to have an operation in two weeks because he has a tumor on his brain. My mother is going to have the mass on Sunday at St. Francis offered up to him. My father is angry because he has to pay ten dollars to the church for the mass. Danny has to go and get different glasses called bifocals because his vision is getting worse. Danny doesn’t want to talk because his head hurts too much .

When I got home from school today Danny was sleeping on the couch with the TV on. He hasn’t been going to school anymore because of the headaches and his vision.

I heard my mother’s voice coming from the cellar. I went into the kitchen and saw the cellar door open so I called out to her. I guess she didn’t hear me so I went down the stairs. She was standing in front of the washing machine. I could see she had laid out a white cloth over it and a standing wooden cross was placed in the middle of it with red votive candles lit on either side. Her big prayer book was open and she was saying words I didn’t understand. It wasn’t English but I think it was Latin. I’m an altar boy so I know what Latin sounds like. I didn’t like seeing my mom like this. It was weird. I’ve never seen her do anything like this before. I didn’t say anything. I just went back upstairs and watched TV.

Darlene Bukowski and I are sitting in our classroom. It is raining outside. Sister Ann tells us to turn the statues of Mary, the mother of God, Joseph her husband and Saint Francis of Assisi so they can face out and look outside and see the rain. They will stop the rain, boys and girls. The saints will protect you from the rain. I sit in my seat and watch the water rise outside the window. It gets higher and higher. The windows begin to rattle. We are sitting at our desks and they begin to vibrate. My cigar box that holds my pens and pencils moves across my desk and falls off the side. Darlene starts crying. The water is rising above the double windows of the classroom. I hear the glass begin to crack. I see the water beginning to seep in. Darlene runs up to the windows and grabs the statue of the Virgin Mary. The glass from all the windows breaks and the water bursts inside the classroom. Darlene screams as I watch the water slam her against the cloak room and then pull her back out the window. I can see her underpants as she flips upside down over and over and disappears out the window never letting go of the Virgin Mary.

I’m sitting on the side of my bed and I can’t see in front of me. Everything is blurry. I hear a wave coming from behind me. The sound of the water scares me. It sounds like thunder. I know I’m sitting on the side of my bed facing my brother but I can’t see anything. Something is moving in front of me but I can’t see. It’s too blurry. Something is pushing me forward. A wave is over my head. I look up and see a giant wall of water coming straight down on me in my bed. The water hits the back of my head and I begin to tumble over and over and over.

4

Friday, Nov. 13, 1964

My father found my journal on the shelf of my nightstand where I keep my comic books. He grabbed me by my shirt collar and hit me hard across the face with the journal. He screamed at me saying I was a stupid little queer to write down our family’s business. Danny was at another doctor’s appointment with my mom and my father stayed home with me. He came up to our room and wanted to know what I was doing. I heard him coming up the stairs and I tried to put my journal underneath some Superman comics but he saw what I was doing when he stormed into our room. It really hurt when he hit me with the journal. I did start to cry. He took my journal, opened up the window and threw it out. He was drunk, which is nothing new. He always gets drunk on Fridays and the rest of the weekend. I waited in my room until I heard him snoring downstairs in his chair with the TV on. I crept down the stairs and went into the kitchen and out the back door and found my journal next to the house. I will never let him find it again. I guess it’s true what they say about Friday the 13th .

5

Monday, Nov. 16, 1964

The weekend was awful. I have to hide when I’m writing now because I can’t take the chance of my father finding out so I do it when I get home from school before he gets home from work. I told Danny what happened and he said I should make sure not to piss him off. He told me to just try to not do things that I know will make him angry. I wanted to tell my mom about it but I think he’d hit her too if she said anything about it to him. Part of me feels good about writing this because it’s like I’m telling someone who won’t get in trouble for me telling secrets about my family. My father always says, It’s Nobody’s Goddamn Business What Happens Here In This House. Keep Your Goddamn Mouths Shut. Everything I do gets my father mad at me. He has such an angry look in his eyes when he hits me. He hits Danny too sometimes but mostly me. I’ve got to learn to just not do anything to make him mad. I need to just blend in .

Danny’s operation is next Wednesday. He says he’ll do anything to have the headaches stop and be able to see without glasses again. He really misses playing golf.

I’m not very good at sports. My father says I have no coordination. He says that the only thing I do good is eat. If there was a sport for eating, I’d win. He also says I’m too fat. I don’t think I am.

I’ve really tried to watch baseball and football on TV but I don’t understand it. I don’t know the rules. Danny tried to explain it all to me but I just wasn’t that interested in it.

I like to read and I like music. My favorite show on TV is The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and The Patty Duke Show. Well there are a lot more but those two are my favorite.

I really like to read about the lives of the Saints. People who suffered for Christ when awful things would test their faith. Maria Goretti was stabbed over twenty times because she would not give herself to a man. My Uncle Paul from the Vatican says there are rooms and rooms of relics from the Saints there. He’s seen the bloody dress of Maria Goretti’s. Can you believe that? Wow.

I really like going to church. Saint Francis of Assisi is a beautiful church. We’ve got life size statues of Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Saint Francis. And the Stations of the Cross are all painted and about three feet tall. There are fourteen stations and they all show what Christ had to go through before he was crucified.

I feel safe in church. The smell of the incense and candles. It’s cool.

I know if I pray to God hard enough he will heal my brother. You’re supposed to pray to Mary, the mother of God, first and she will intercede your request and tell Jesus. But I figure since I am a good Catholic I can go directly to God and ask him. It’s just too important to me. I don’t think Mary will mind.

I am in church with my family. We are sitting in the pew we always sit in. Father Kowalski is saying Mass. He raises the host and the altar boy rings the bells. The host is in his hands and his arms are outstretched, pointing to heaven. I feel my body begin to float up into the air. Danny looks at me amazed. My feet pass his head as I float upward. Everyone is looking at me. Their mouths are open. I float over their heads. Sunlight hits my face as everyone sees the bottoms of my shoes. Everyone is making the sign of the cross. I am moving towards the altar. I am floating. I am flying. I am alive with the spirit of God and floating in my church. In the choir loft, Miss Richards, the organist, faints and her hands fall limply on the keys and the sound from the organ is majestic. It is wonderful. It fills the church. Father Kowalski still has his hands outstretched holding the host as I hover right above him. He looks into my eyes. I turn around and face the congregation. To show respect I kneel in mid air above him. Above his hands. Above the host. I fold my hands perfectly in prayer. I am floating over the altar. Father Kowalski, the host and me. I am floating over the body of Christ. The organ music is getting louder and louder. It sounds so beautiful. I can see my mother holding her rosary beads and crying. She is so proud of me. The altar boy starts to ring the bells. I am bathed in sunlight and floating over God looking out at the congregation. The life size statues of Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Saint Francis of Assisi turn on their pedestals and genuflect to me. I am not a Saint. I have not suffered. I am floating. It is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

6

Tuesday, Nov. 17, 1964

Danny cried in bed last night. We looked at each other in our beds and talked and he cried. He told me how horrible he felt. Aside from his headaches, he’s really sick to his stomach and dizzy all the time. He misses going to school. It’s his sophomore year and everything was going great until he got sick. I told him I was praying for him and it was going to be alright. He smiled at me and said I was the holiest one in the house. It was weird. He kept saying that he didn’t want anything to happen to me. What could happen to me? He said he was my big brother and big brothers always protect little brothers. I told him I didn’t need protection. He said, Yeah, You Do .

He asked how I was doing in school and I told him what we were studying and who the nuns paddled last week. Luckily I have never been paddled by Sister Joan Marie. She’s the principal. Thomas O’Brien got paddled last week because he wouldn’t stop eating his boogers in class. What happened was, he sits next to Judy Welch and when she saw him picking his nose and eating his boogers she threw up on her desk. It splashed on Mike Gathers who sits in front of her and he freaked out and wet his pants. Bobby Johnson saw it and started laughing and Sister Ann went over and slapped him hard with the ruler. But when she saw all the vomit and Mike standing there with his pants all wet, she threw up too, in Bobby Johnson’s lap. Anyway Thomas O’Brien got paddled for being disgusting.

When I finished my story, Danny was laughing. He told me to stop because he was going to throw up on me if I didn’t stop making him laugh. I love Danny. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. I can’t imagine what it will feel like going to the hospital and having an operation. What are they going to do to him? Are they going to cut his head open? How can you do