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The Beast with Five Fingers

When I was a little boy I once went with my father to call on Adrian Borlsover. I played on the floor with a black spaniel while my father appealed for a subscription. Just before we left my father said, “Mr. Borlsover, may my son here shake hands with you?

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Metal Health

I recently discovered the most amazing resource to help those dealing with mental illnesses and personality disorders, and I want to share what I’ve learned with as many others as possible. Since I know so many struggle with these problems, I hope you find this information useful. But first, I’d

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Mommy Dearest

As Julie began to regain consciousness, she knew something wasn’t right. She started to panic as she realized she was strapped to a table. A big bright light beamed down onto her face, blinding her, as silhouettes moved silently around her. The silhouettes began to whisper. “She’s perfect, daddy, thank

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The Last Body I Ever Cut Open

Craig Brockwell was found by his wife, dead on their living room floor, a plastic garbage bag tied off around his neck, and an empty bottle of Xanax on the kitchen counter, next to a suicide note. My initial external examination of the body revealed no indications of a physical

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The Hollows and the Hills

Part 1 I am often asked how it was that I first became interested the true crime genre. It’s the sort of question I frequently get at conventions, book signings, panel meetings, and interviews, but the actual answer is fairly mundane. What I find more interesting is the source of

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I Raised the Devil’s Daughter

You know those stories where a woman walks into the bar, meets a stunning man and gets pregnant, then finds out she’s bearing the offspring of Lucifer? Well, this is not one of those. My mother had me at a young age so, by the time I was 16, she was

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Why Do People Keep Staring at My Face?

“What the hell is her problem?” I thought to myself as I sat in my cubicle. Angela, one of my co-workers, was staring at me. More accurately, she was gawping at me. At my face. I wanted to scream at her, flip my desk over and demand what the fuck

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The Artist

There’s this painting my wife loves, called “Death and Life”, by Klimt. I don’t know what she finds so fascinating about it. I made all the right noises when she showed me her beloved framed print when we were first dating, “oohing” and “ahhing” and making up some bullshit about warm

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The Baptism

There’s a small village out in Alabama called Saint’s Glen.  You won’t find it on any map, at least not since 1965. But you can still find the remnants of the town.  If you follow the river southwest of Thomasville, you’ll find it, somewhere in the woods between Jackson and

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I Think I’m Being Followed

My name’s Abigail Stitcher. I’m 15 years old, and I think I’m being followed. You see, I live in a relatively small town, with a population of 1,476 or so. Birch Run, they call it. Nothing’s ever really happens there, aside from the occasional fire or robbery committed by some

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The Blooming

“Millie, wake up! Come on, it’s your birthday! Today’s a very special day! You’re 18! Mum’s working so you get to spend the whole day with me. Meet me in the living room when you’re ready!” my sister Elena sings cheerfully at me while shaking my mattress. I get out

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