‘No,’ Frankie said. ‘I know Mom and Dad are dead. And I’ve seen enough car wrecks to know what they probably look like. I…I don’t need to ...ee them. I’d rather remember them the way they were.’ ‘That’s your choice,’ the funeral director said. Frankie had never experienced anything more horrible than his parents’ funeral rites. First he had to deal with the wake, which consisted sitting for what seemed like hours in the funeral home while people filed through the room where the two closed caskets. One thing I find interesting, however, is how many people fantasize about incest even if they would never admit it openly because of the stigma that comes with it. I felt weird when I first started posting stories, but by now I’ve seen that literally hundreds of thousands of people read them, and if I write about anything else than incest, the amount of readers won’t even reach a tenth of that. So the whole thing is a bit absurd, there’s a huge amount of people who are into this, but no-one is. More

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