Part I “The Map in the Cabinet” by: Kyle Harrison Hi everyone. Hugh Karington here, co-owner and manager of the Karington Emporium here in downtown Silver Grove. I don’t normally do this sort of online advertising, but well; thanks to my half brained brother Dalen the store has fallen on some hard times. It really all started about two months back when Pa died and Dalen cooked up the scheme to reopen the place.
Everyone told me: Don’t meet dates online. I’d fucked every eligible man on this coast before finally settling down. Before I met my man, my sexlife was boring as shit. I’m devoted now. No secrets. My husband knows my past, so ‘come for me,’ haters! We’re celebrating 2 years! My friend Richie, my biggest critic, accused me of “fucking every guy with WiFi and a heartbeat.” But that wasn’t true. It had to be at least 100mbps.
Part I 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. When he died Adam was the one to give me the call. He was dad’s favorite so that made a lot of sense.
“I wish I could bring you home with me,” Evan said. His husband’s mouth opened. Evan imagined they’d argue and held up his finger. “Shhh. It’s better this way, Jace. You’re banished…can’t go back.” Jace glared down the hill where they met now, overlooking dust as wind carried and swirled it to eddy around them.
We were both young. I could tell he was still young enough to believe himself invincible. I spotted him moving like an elemental on the other side of the room and downed my drink. The spirits from the bar quelled my nerves and I crossed to join him. I hadn’t done anything like this before. We talked for an hour until we were both drunk. He, more drunk from love than drink. He was 22. I was 23. I will always remember the first.
I dug for what seemed like hours. Hours and hours of clawing through dirt that varied between hard clay and the sort of thinning sand that normally makes its home on river-bottoms. Silt that sifted through my hands down and away as I went. That voice: I kept hearing that voice within my head as it repeated those words to me. I tried my best to ignore it, but it was often unbearable.
Dear Jack, I’m not coming back. Please don’t try to find me. I had so many things that I wanted to say to you but I couldn’t for obvious reasons. I didn’t leave this note at the house, which was for obvious reasons also. I hope that one of your friends finds this somehow and gets it to you. I left because I’m afraid of you. I never thought I would say something like that. You are the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.
My brother is Officer Jake Swanson. He’d just graduated from the academy…only just earned his badge. He’d begun his first shift with his field training officer, when about an hour in they responded to a call from a pair of campers They went to that house in the woods. It was his first and last day on the job when he made the gruesome discovery that should be national news. It isn’t being reported. At least not in the way it should be.
I would like to start by saying, there are a lot of bad people in the world, but I am certainly not in their company. I am a good person. I recycle, I pay my taxes and I donate to the LGBTQ Youth shelter downtown. For Craig to call me a turd, if it weren’t so impossibly ironic, was audacious.
I was alone this Christmas. I was heartbroken when my husband Daniel told me he was driving to Tennessee for the week. His sister and our brother-in-law had gotten a cabin on AirBnB and invited us both to come. Being busiest this time of year, the line of work that I’m in doesn’t allow for time off during the holidays. Just Christmas day and then we’re back at it.