The Impaled House

Every October, one house in our Maryland neighborhood turned into an obsession. The owner never spoke, never waved, never broke routine — he just built the most disturbing Halloween displays anyone had ever seen. This year, he went too far: a Vlad the Impaler theme with bodies hanging on stakes and birds tearing at them. Parents complained, so I went to his door as the town's compliance officer to “handle it.” I expected an argument. I expected anger. I didn’t expect the smell. I didn’t expect the flies. And I didn’t expect to recognize one of the faces.
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