Like with the case of infamous hitman Richard Kuklinski or, as he’s better known, “The Ice Man”. Of course, there are some things that are so inherently fucked that I can’t let them go, no matter how much I write about it. More importantly, I can reason with them. I put them in the form of a story because that way I can control them. I try to give the horrors of the real world a narrative. Let’s be honest it can get pretty dark out there at times and whenever I come across something particularly disturbing, writing about it is basically my security blanket. So why does every story that I write resemble a sleep aid-induced nightmare a mad man might have after eating a lot of weird cheeses? The simple answer? Because horror is how I make sense of the world. I’m always cracking jokes and I’m usually the first one to remind others not to take things too seriously. As a person, I am generally a pretty cheery motherfucker. People think because I write scary stories, that means I must be some kind of twisted bastard who spends all of his time sitting around dreaming up horrible things and the truth is that’s only half right.
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