What do you get when you take eight of the most prolific voices on the indie horror scene and barricade them in a cellar for one hundred and seventy-three days with little food or water but unlimited paper and three pens each?<br/><br/>Well, you get a lot of things, let me tell you. Most importantly, once you look beyond the gnawed fingertips, broken ankles, and buckets of feces, you find a collection of stories that in all its depraved glory promises to slowly peel away the almost-healed scabs of what you believed was finally an escape from the revulsion that greets you each morning with open arms. I have looked deep into the corners of what they have to offer, and it is truly disturbing, to say the least.<br/><br/>Now free, Beauregard, Bedlam, Dixon, Ennenbach, Havok, McHardy, Volpe, and Watts invite you to walk with them through levels of psychological terror and extreme horror, ending in a slow waltz with the macabre and bizarre, as they watch from a safe distance, arguing about what is the most efficient way to remove the brain stem from a partially decomposed Appalachian Freemason.