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A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse part 4

A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse: The Balloon (Part Four)

Read Part one here Read Part two here Read Part three here For at least a good ten minutes or so, I just laid there as the terrified adrenaline began to wear off, leaving both my body and mind just completely drained. As my heart rate slowly returned to normal, […]

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A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse part 3

A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse: The Balloon (Part Three)

Read Part one here Read Part two here As I began to reach for the door, hands shaking uncontrollably; I closed my eyes and began muttering out loud “There’s nothing to be afraid of…” over and over like it was a mantra. My eyes shot open immediately upon grabbing the

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A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse

A Survivor’s Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse: The Balloon [Part One]

Let me begin this by saying that I share my story with you all purely by order of my psychiatrists. They labor under this delusion that reaching out to others about everything that happened to me might provide me with some form of catharsis. Personally, I’m more inclined to believe

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Pick-a-Pocket

My younger brother disappeared on Halloween night when he was seven years old. It hollowed out my mother, who was raising the two of us all by herself, and that was already hard enough in 1971. Mom finished drinking herself to death in ‘74, and I went to live with

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Boppi

Her name was Boppi. Boppi the Clown. I met her at my first carnival. Carnivals never held much appeal to me other than their rides and excessively sweet, fattening treats. Such limitation was probably for the best. However, my parents insisted on dragging me along knowing all too well that

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