Pop-Pop’s cabin lay on unincorporated land just across the county line. Calling it a cabin is a bit of a misnomer; really, it’s a mansion. An anemic, bootstrapped, sprawling one, but a mansion nonetheless. A winding gravel path welded it to State Route 336 like a taxidermied limb. Getting from the property’s edge to the house itself was nearly twenty minutes on its own–the path was made of hairpin turns. The kind of place that radiated “get the fuck away.”

Fit the man himself, I guess.

“Sundays With Pop-Pop” was published by the Drabblecast horror fiction podcast, episode 496. It can be listened to or read on their website.