It started as a bruise, and before anyone tells me to go a hospital, my reply is: no. I’ve already done that. They’re not going to help.
Category: Unsettling Tales (Page 2 of 5)
I use my fingers to prise apart your eyes. The penlight is to see if your pupils, like little black pearls, are still round and wide. Will they dilate this time, or are you still out cold? The gloves on my hands are to protect me from the germs, the mucus; your ‘goo.’
When people think of homes on the beach, they think of paradise; panoramic views with pristine white sands leading into hues of blue. They think of plate glass and every room is a room with a view. Homes surrounded by ocean, of private beaches beyond. All of these vistas set to the sloshing sound of the tides as they rise in and out like the beat of breaths.
(Part 3: “Dad’s Pornos” – By Adam Davies)
My idiot brothers have decided to share the ridiculous and sordid details of our fathers life and death. I tried to warn them, asked them to take down what they had written, warn them that they were opening a pandora’s box and they wouldn’t like what they found. As usual they didn’t listen. All they cared about was what happened, when they should have cared about why. Why did our father have cursed sex toys?…
A Series by: Kyle Harrison, Scott Savino and Adam Davies
(Part 1: “Dad’s Doll” – By Kyle Harrison)
My brothers and I grew up in the trailer park version of the Playboy Mansion.
Our dad, or as he likes to be called even by us- Big Poppa- was not Hugh Hefner. Not even by a long shot. He was a twisted sick and perverted old man that died as he lived, fucking everything in sight…