Our Father’s Twisted Sex Life

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.

The Man Who Stalks The Space Between The Graves

My house is haunted but there is a logical explanation. This is not one of those stories where a tragic death happened inside. No one has ever died here. Still, tragedy surrounds the place; the two windows upstairs at the back gaze sadly out every day. No, this is not a story about a house built on an Indian burial ground. There is no one interred beneath the foundation…only in the yard. Rows and rows of tombstones stretch out past my back door to the tree line beyond. My haunted house stands in a cemetery. The cemetery to which I am now the caretaker. My great-grandfather Heinrick built this house 117 years ago. At the time, there wasn’t a cemetery within fifty miles. When this county was young, the thought of paying someone else to bury your dead as they died was an uncommon luxury. Most took care of their
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